


Of Quiet Birds in Circled Flight

by Clara_Watson



Series: Quiet Birds AU [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Non-Canon Cases, but like slowburn is about to happen, canon cases, haha it gets dark, mentions of ncis because it's easier to steal other canon than make more of your own, this is plot with the promise of smut, too many references to early 2000's music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 60,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26212972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clara_Watson/pseuds/Clara_Watson
Summary: It's been almost fifteen years since you were willingly in Virginia, and your return certainly wasn't to rejoin the Bureau. But when you get a phone call from David Rossi to join him for lunch and accidentally run into your old friend, Aaron Hotchner, things start to look like you might rejoin.~ if you want slowburn, this is it. ~~ Part One starts at 3x11, finishes in the gap between 4x02 and 4x03 ~
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Series: Quiet Birds AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930975
Comments: 223
Kudos: 225





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first reader insert and *sweats profusely* I'm settling in for a ride. So grab some cookies, drink and popcorn my friends, and pray this gets completed.

You’ve been in Quantico, Virginia for two weeks. You’re still convincing yourself it was the right move. For almost a decade you had worked at FBI in DC, only recently you had closed the Dollhouse case--four girls had been kidnapped and held hostage in a bunker, forced to play out the Unsub’s childhood until it turned out how he wished it to. Teens. The case had taken its toll on you, especially while you’re raising your eight-year-old daughter on your own. 

You have a list of things you should do pinned to your father’s fridge. Top of the list is ‘call Aaron and Haley’. It’s been top of the list for two weeks, and yet you’ve still not done it. You’ve got Saskia (your daughter) started at her new school, cleaned out your childhood bedroom, cleaned the backyard for your dad. Looked for jobs, looked some more for jobs, blown off your old boss multiple times when he begged you to come back to DC. 

Saskia’s bouncing in the front seat next to you as you pull into the pick-up/drop-off lane, screaming the lyrics to ‘Bop to the Top’. Honestly, you can’t wait until she doesn’t want to listen to the ‘High School Musical’ CD ever again. Your phone rings as you're turning the radio down, Saskia turning to it keenly.

You don’t think she has an aversion to your phone ringing, but there’s also never been a time where your phone ringing had been good for her. It was always your call to action, Saskia suddenly staying with a friend until you’re back. She looks at you, curiosity lining her big, innocent eyes.

“Who is it?” she asks, her way of scoping if you were going to work again. You pull it out the cup holder, frowning at the name.

“David Rossi,” you frown. If there’s anything to be said for Marine buddies, it’s that they speak to each other, and yet to no one at all. You father is the worst of it, you’re not even surprised that Rossi’s calling if the two of them have breathed the same air.

Saskia snatches the phone from your hand, flipping it open excitedly.

“HI UNCLE DAVE!” she screams into the receiver. He laughs, but that has to be because his eardrums have been blown out completely. 

The school bell screams behind Saskia, and the other parents start honking their horns at you. You reach over and cup your daughter’s face pulling her over to you and kissing her forehead as you peel the phone from her grip. 

“Do you know where you’re going, Little Miss?” you ask, cradling your phone to your chest. 

Saskia nods excitedly, her plaits slapping against her shoulders. She points to the gate where Nathan, a boy from orientation, is standing. Then she mashes as many kisses against her hand as she can and blows them to you. You repeat the action as she slides out of the car dramatically.

“Grandad’s picking me up after school, yes?” she says, throwing her tiny backpack over her shoulder.

“Affirmative,” you grin at her. You blow her one last kiss. “Love you, Saskia.”

She slams the car door shut, running to the gate and screams, “I LOVE YOU TOO.”

You raise your phone to your ear as you pull out of the lane.

“Hey Dave, give me a moment to find a park. Then I’m all ears.” You pull into a park next to a shabby looking minivan and turn your car off. “I promise not to yell at you, sorry about that.” 

Dave chuckles. “Your dad said you were back in town.” Honestly, it’s an accusing tone. “He also mentioned your only job is doing his laundry.”

You groan and slam your head into the steering wheel. Moving back to Virginia, back home, had been for two reasons. The first had been closer to your father, who’d finally retired from being an ME after his fourth heart attack. The second was being as far away from the Bureau as possible. From your old office, from the girl’s that haunted your dreams. Maybe there had been a third--keeping Saskia safe.

It hadn’t been against your job. You liked your job at the FBI, you just didn’t like the cases. Or being team leader, that had been your main issue. Uprooting your life was what you had to do.

“Dad shouldn’t talk so much,” you respond.’

You hear paper moving around Dave’s desk in the silence.

“BAU’s looking to hire another female agent, levelling the playing field for field assignments.”

“I didn’t apply.”

“Your boss recommended you with flying colours. He wouldn’t stop talking about how it would be a great opportunity for you.”

“I didn’t apply,” you reiterate.

And you didn’t, nor would you ever. The BAU was Aaron Hotchner’s division, and while the two of you (well, four, Haley and Felix made four) had been inseparable before college. It was ultimately Aaron and Haley staying in Virginia, you and Felix moving to DC that had torn the four of you apart.

You’d share Christmas cards, sure, but who didn’t when they had kids. It was practically mandatory.

The reason you’d put off calling Haley and Aaron bubbled in your stomach. The last time you’d seen him was, what, six years ago? 2001. At your husband’s funeral. That was something you’d both have to talk about.

Dave fills the silence.

“Drop by the office, hang out with the team. If you like it, put your application in.” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I’ll meet you out front in half an hour.”

You snap your phone shut dramatically, even though he hands up first. You throw your phone into the backseat for extra flare and pull out, determined not to go to Headquarters. But even then, your body somehow pulls into that cursed carpark and you might actually scream.

Dave saunters towards your car like he knows something you don’t. You pull your keys out of the ignition, shoving them in your backpocket with the Winnie the Pooh keyring sticking out. One positive about having kids is there’s always cute things hanging around.

“I am having lunch with you,” you say to Dave, frowning at him. “I am not saying yes or no to anything.” You grab your handbag with a glare, but it’s mainly not serious.

He taps the leather wallet in his hand that obviously isn’t his, and smirks. Nightmare.

“Non-retirement looks good on you,” you smile, embracing him. “Hope you don’t pass it onto Dad.”

“Passed writing a book onto him,” Dave chuckles. Indeed he did, your father having written a book on the case that killed your husband. And almost killed your daughter, and yourself. It’s probably the only thing that kept him sane during his forced retirement that had turned permanent.

“I’ll let you meet the team,” Dave smiles as he clasps your shoulder. He drops the wallet in your bag, which you pull out and turn theID badge over in your hands. It feels good. You handed it back to him.

“I’m only here for lunch,” you tell him. The hum he gives you tells you he’s not listening.

Despite all your years of training, you can’t help wrap your arms around your stomach and squeeze protectively as you walk into the bullpen. It’s much nicer than your old one’s in DC, if only because they’ve got light.

There’s no one there, thank god, but your father’s book is face done on one of their desks. The glossy hardcover, black, with the white lily start against it stares at you. Mocking you almost. ‘The White Lily Killer’ is across the cover in cursive, ‘1996-2001’ printed beneath it. Tempting you to remember those cursed five years. It’s kind of working.

“Looks like just lunch is in luck,” Rossi says and honestly he sounds disappointed. You wouldn’t be surprised if he drags you back later, just so you can meet the team. You make a note to leave before Dave can rope you into anything dumb.

He fumbles with a chain in his pocket and you frown at him. He doesn’t want you to join the team. He wants you to work magic with some hire ups, because that’s what you’re good at, and if you’re with the team then he can grab you whenever he needs. 

You run after him, hopping up the stairs as he goes to his office.

“Before you try to bully me into this again, you should know Chief Strauss hates my guts,” you whisper lowly. Rossi raises an eyebrow at you, and you smile somewhat apologetically. “I got caught up with a bad group of guys at an FBI dinner, had to make fun of someone, and she was there.” You shrug.

Dave flips his wallet in his hand and smirks at you. “And by ‘bad group of guys’?”

You shrug. “My old boss.”

There’s a soft knock at the door and files spin across the room, landing on Dave’s desk.

“Take a look at that before you leave.” You know that low voice from anywhere, the same boy that had wormed his way into theatre group because he had a crush on your best friend. Well, best friend was a loose term. High school best friend, accidentally replaced in adulthood. 

“Hi Aaron,” you say far quieter than you wished. 

His eyes flicker up from his files and meet yours, blinking slowly.

“Hi,” he barely breathes.


	2. Chapter 2

You’re both stuck, staring at each other like you’re two kids in the playground who’s siblings know each other, and therefore you should be friends too.

“How long’ve you been back?” he asks, but then he’s tucking his files under his arm and pulling you into a hug. You smile at the familiar feeling, squeezing his shoulders before he inevitably gets mad at your answer. 

“Two weeks,” you murmur as you pull away. You can feel the glare on your skin before you look back at him. But it’s fallen from his face by the time the two of you are face to face again. “You haven’t changed,” you say because it’s true. Maybe it’s a little untrue, because at least his tie isn’t the paisley gross green colour that made everyone look sick. School was hell.

“You changed your hair,” he points at it and you know he’s referencing that it’s no longer edgy-theatre-kid-black. You shrug.

“Motherhood.”

“I thought you had a team,” Aaron says, leaning against the door frame. Dave settles into his chair, watching the two of you.

“Dollhouse was my last case, I don’t plan on going back.”

Aaron hisses through his teeth, grimacing at the case. At least the only two cases you’ve ever closed have been name making, you’ve got that running for you at least. 

“You sure about not coming back because we’ve got an opening,” Aaron watches you as you turn to Dave, glaring at him.

“Did you two organise this?” you ask accusingly. Dave shakes his head and raises his hands defensively. “I’m not here for a job.”

“Might do you better than your dad’s laundry, he pays shit money,” Aaron murmurs. This time you really do glare at him, but he’s flicking through his casefile again. “You still got your creds? A go bag?”

Dave throws the ID up in the air, you catching it. You flick it open automatically, cursing at the reflex. Aaron lifts it to inspect it. He knows you've got a go bag. Curse him.

“You’re still good,” he presses it into your hands again. “Wanna tag along? Meet the team?” he hands you a preliminary casefile, a collection of dead bodies appearing in a cold case’s dumping ground. 

“No,” you say, your voice far too close to when Saskia says no even when she wants to. The victims look the same age as the girls from the Dollhouse case, what’s left of them anyway. “I don’t have a gun.”

“Stay with someone who does,” Dave offers. 

“Are these linked to the 1979-1980 cases?” you ask. Cold cases were a passion of both your husband and father’s, a little of it had rubbed off on you. Aaron nods. “Fine. But this is it, okay? Then I’m out and I’m going to work a desk job or something.”

“Famous last words,” Aaron mutters. 

***

You meet everyone in the conference room, shaking their hands as you make the round of the table. You take a particular liking to Spencer, if only because he looks at you for that little bit too long as if he’s trying to place your face, and then tells you about the brand of hair dye you’ve used in your hair. You perch at the back of the room, just behind Garcia, watching the team as they go through the profile.

It had been a chore in DC to get your team to discuss cases anymore than what was given to them. Critical thinking wasn’t exactly their forte, it was more following whatever orders they were given to shoot. That was selling them short, but some days they were infuriating. This was… different. They actually bounce ideas off each other.

You ride with Reid, JJ and Hotch. Apparently ‘stick with someone with a gun’ means you’re trusted with field work, which is insane. You watch JJ from the back seat, the way she looks out the window whenever Spencer talks about the Unsub. She’s been doing it the whole way, something about the case setting her on edge. 

“The killer has an obvious disregard for women,” Reid points out, “he sees them as disposable and worthless. You know, he’d need a lot of time and privacy to do this to them.”

“Seclusion. Time. Back then, the theory was he was a seasonal worker on one of the farms,” Hotch continues. You lean over to Spencer, pointing out the farms they’d labelled in the 80’s. You cursed yourself for remembering. You were pretty sure your dad had pictures from the original crime scenes down in the basement. 

When you climb out of the car at the dump site, JJ offers a hand, introducing herself.

“We didn’t get time for a proper introduction before,” she smiles and it doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

“There’s never time when bodies are involved,” you return, soothing her nerves. 

You hang a little behind as you walk up to the crime scene, scanning the land around you. Perfect place for kids to party, no one can see you this far out, and yet everyone can see you. Your eyes fall on the prime party spot, cut off by the police tape. You scout the edge of the abduction site, trying to find somewhere that the Unsub could have hidden. 

JJ steps away as they talk about the abduction, pinching her nose. You catch Aaron’s eye as he watches her, mouthing ‘talk to her’ as they begin to walk away from the crime scene.

“I’ll catch up,” he calls. Reid responds, brushing him off, and you run up behind him, falling in step beside Reid.

“This is a weird case to come in on,” Reid says by way of conversation. 

“I was bullied by Rossi,” you smile. 

“H-how do you know Hotch?” his eyes flicker to you, then to Hotch, and you know the young man’s questioning discussing personal life on a case. 

“Case fact for a life fact,” you counter with a smile. Reid studies you and then tucks his hair behind his ears.

“Okay,” he purses his lips. “If the Unsub’s really in his 60’s, he has to be incredible strong. Or really good at luring people away.”

You look at Reid, head curiously cocked that he's just repeated what Hotch has insinuated. But then the kid licks his lips nervously and you have to stop yourself from laughing. He might be a doctor, and a genius, but he's just a curious kid.

"Highschool," you give Reid cryptically. The kid makes a small 'ok' face and nods. "A little at the academy." 

Reid slips on a muddy patch of grass and flails to catch himself. You grab his elbow before he lands, spread eagle on the grass. 

"Hotch doesn't 'bring people on cases'," Reid says simply. You nod in agreement.

"He was bullied by Rossi," you say and you watch Reid try to do the math of probability on that. The sheriff shows you private entrances to the battlefield. You run your fingers over the top of the fence, along the undisturbed dust and dirt atop it. 

Every now and then there's a spot big enough for one or two people to have sat on top of it, but not for a body to be dragged over. So he's probably got a getaway vehicle of some description, and the farmer theory is looking more and more likely because he'd have to fit in.

"How are the kids doing?" You ask the sheriff, his head snapping to you. "They were at a party one minute, then their friend is gone."

"How's that going to help you with the case?" The sheriff says, turning to you. You hold his look, trying to answer him with something other than 'nothing, just curious'. 

"Uh," Reid jumps in, "reactions to the initial crime scene are incredibly important, they can help placing the crime scene. Whether the victim was isolated from the group, obviously she was so why."

You smile gratefully at him. Hotch and JJ catch up, Hotch's hand ghosting against you for a split moment that everyone could have missed it. When the Sheriff, JJ and Reid are lost in conversation, Hotch pulls you back. 

He points to the ground as if he's got something to show you.

"If I can't keep an eye on JJ--"

"Easy," you smile before he finishes. "Consider her lovingly watched." 

"Thanks," he nods. You start walking again, Aaron wringing his hands in front of him. "Listen, have… have you talked to Haley?"

You shake your head, glancing up to him. They haven't been separate identities since their marriage. Since before that, theatre group at least. His eyes are trained on Reid and JJ, not looking at you. 

"Do you want me to?" You say, trying to pull it out of him. He shrugs and drags his feet, and you're both in highschool again. His eyes flick to you, they're large and hurt and scared and--

"Aaron, I don't care what happened between either of you." You do, a little.

"Talk to her before you look at taking the job."

"I'm not t--"

"Y/n," he says lowly. You shrug and nod.

"I'll talk to her."

***

You don't talk to Haley because by the time you're in the hotel room you've got 5 missed calls from your Dad's number, and 16 texts that are all obviously from Saskia. Once upon a time you would have said it was too late to call home, but after Dollhouse you know it's never too late.

You haven't got a book to read her when she asks, so you tell her what you can remember of the Cinderella picture book she's loved to death. You can hear as she turns the page at home, tutting whenever you got the words wrong.

"You said you weren't going to work for a long time," you can hear your daughters pout through the phone.

"I know, sweet heart. Uncle Dave--"

"If Uncle Dave asked you to jump off a cliff, would you?" Saskia humfs and it takes all your effort not to snap at her.

"Saskia," you say low, mainly in warning. But your lack of answer was enough answer for your child, and you can hear your dad reading out the time reminding both of you how late it is.

"Grandad says I have to go," Saskia whines. "When will you be home?" 

"Soon, Sweetie."

"Are you going to miss my assembly?" 

Shit. Friday. "If I do, Grandad'll film it and we can watch it together, yeah?" 

"Okay." It's not okay. You both know that. "Night Mommy."

"I love you, Sweet."

"I love you too." 

You hang up before your dad can get a hold of the phone, discarding it to the nightstand. 

Sleep does not bless you. You toss and turn, reorganise the case file, take notes on the case file, sketch out what you remember of the civil war field. Around 2, your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Text from: Aaaaaronnnn  
Awake?

Reply:  
Always.

Then a soft knock at your door. You roll off the bed, shoving the files away, and peel the curtain away from the window. Aaron raises a hand in greeting and you smile, opening the door for him.

"Can't sleep?" You ask, and Aaron's shrug answers everything you need. He slinks into the room like it's something to be ashamed of. At least he's in an oversized jumper instead of still in his suit.

"Helps you to sleep if you put those away," he says lowly, shifting the files from the bed onto the bench and sits on the end of the bed. 

"Helps you sleep if you don't work for the FBI," you retort, folding into the hotel pillows. They're so solid they might as well be concrete. 

"Helps your marriage, too," he says sourly. 

Your immediate reaction is to throw your head back and say "Amen!" Through a laugh, just because if you hadn't worked for the FBI, Felix would still be alive. But then you look at him, the pain that is so clearly across his face.

"Aaron?" 

He looks up, tears glazing his eyes and you wonder who he's admitted it to. You reach out, pressing your hand to his shoulder. Which unravels the stoic man, his shoulders heaving as he breaks.

You crawl across the bed, pulling him into your shoulder as he tries--so hard--not to cry. Which is futile, because once that first sob rakes through his body it's not going to stop. 

You rub circles on his back until you're sure your hand has enough static on your hand to become a lightning based superhero. 

"You should have called," you whisper, but you're not even sure that he can hear you as he sniffles to pull himself together. 

He wipes his nose and cheeks on the sleeve of his jumper. You half-groan, half-laugh trying to return some sort of normality to the room because, honestly, you might cry too. You hand him a tissue box and run your hand through his hair because there's really nothing else to do. 

"When was the last time you slept?" You berate him as he shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Today," he mumbles and honestly he's on the same level as Saskia in that moment. He's just a kid with poor impulse control. 

"Longer than a nap, Hotch." The use of his team name earns you a glare. 

"I tell you about my marriage falling apart and you accuse me of not sleeping?"

You pull your sleeve down and wipe the tears that he's missed from his cheeks. 

"You didn't tell me shit, Aaron," you whisper teasingly. "But you look exhausted. On every level." He nods.

It's only natural that the two of you find your way from one of you, crying on the end of the bed, to you curled under the covers and Aaron lying on top, constantly saying 'I'll go back after this' before he starts telling you about something new. 

You've learnt about Garcia and Morgan's not-relationship, Spencer's eidetic memory, Garcia's date-gone-bad where she'd been shot on her doorstep step (that one hit hard, remembering coming home to your murdered husband, and Aaron takes your hand the moment he realises). 

"Do you like the team?" He asks, finally, like a kid showing off his trucks. Or a dad, finally showing off his kids because they just got family photos done. 

"I do." They're far better than your team back in DC. "You're like a little family." 

"Yeah," Aaron breathes. "Think you might come back?" 

"No."

He turns, facing you and you look at him in the low light that's always bathing shitty hotel rooms no matter how dark it is. 

"I think you'd like it," he says, reaching out until his hand met yours. He circles your palm with his finger, tracing shapes. You hum, your eyes struggling to stay open. 

"Maybe," you admit. He yawns and snuggles into the pillow and you know he's not going back to his room. "If you get under the covers and get some sleep I'll think about it." You mumble.

Aaron's sleep addled brain makes him smirk and he ducks under the covers, murmuring, "okay" before his breathing evens out, and you know he's asleep.

Which is how the two of you wake, your head on Aaron's chest, his arm around your shoulders, with JJ calling his phone.

There's another body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ this bb was a lil long... thanks for sticking by!! ~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? giving the reader a detailed history? more likely than you think.

The body isn’t even sneakily hidden, just scattered over the old civil war battlefield. You don’t envy a single person on clean up. You stand a top of one of the picnic tables, double checking that there’s not some weird birds-eyed-view way of seeing where the parts had been scattered then ran your hand over the back of your neck. 

JJ goes on her own with the Sheriff to talk to the hovering parents and you jump from the table.

“What if it IS a copy cat,” you offer. Aaron glares at you, but Spencer surveys you.

“There’s no mistakes, they’re even doing things that were never released to the media,” Spencer says. “But I suppose it could be, if they somehow got the information.”

“The files are readily available to anyone in high security clearance jobs if they want it,” you respond, leaning up against the table. “You’d read them, my dad had an interest in them when I was a kid. Even my husband dug them out every now and then, everything’s matching those files.”

Spencer squints at you and you squint back at him playfully. 

“You’re insinuating that someone in law enforcement is doing this?” he asks.

“Law enforcement is too big, but someone who has access to the information, sure. Pure access, not edited for a case.”

Hotch sits, one eye on JJ, the other on your conversation. 

“It’s possible,” Spencer nods. “I’ll think on it.”

“You do that,” you say softly, giving him a smile. 

***

The day was long with barely any progress made. When Rossi and Hotch declare it’s time to call it quits for the day (honestly, it’s the night, but you let it slide), and to come back early in the morning with rested minds, you don’t argue. Prentiss offers to buy you dinner, but there’s something flipping in your brain about the case that you can’t shake so you put a raincheck in it.

You go back to the hotel to nap, but you can’t, so you fish around your go bag until you find your gym clothes (the true function of your go bag in the two weeks you didn’t work), changing into them. You grab your iPod (although, you’re not sure it’s yours anymore after you let Saskia put the new Hannah Montana album on it) and decide to run the block until one of two things happen:

You figure out what’s bugging you  
or  
You can’t run anymore.

Instead, you’re stopped at your second lap of the block by a call from Dave. You look around as you hold it, eyes falling on Dave who’s standing in the window of a take away shop. You think about not answering it, but he also has a hotline-to-your-father thing going on, so you reluctantly answer.

“When someone offers to buy you dinner, going for a run is not the answer,” he says and you watch his face barely move as he stares at you. 

“I needed to think,” you respond in the same tone. But it’s Rossi with that unwavering marine gaze that makes you do the tiny-toddler-stamp and shrug. He curls his finger at you. 

“Come eat.” He hangs up as your earphones start blaring ‘everybody has those days’ and not for the first time in your life, you curse Hannah Montana. 

Prentiss’s face lights up as you push the door open, Dave nodding to you. The team’s dragged two tables together, picking at a box of chips shared between them. Prentiss drags a chair over and shoves it between her and Morgan, patting the metal seat. You sit with a small, ashamed, smile that you’d blown them off earlier. Dave mirrors your smile and you kind of want to throw the bird at him. 

“Where’d you transfer from?” Prentiss asks, offering you the box of chips. You take a couple, cradling them in one hand while picking at them.

“I didn’t ‘transfer’, per se, but the DC office,” you say. You watch the team glance up curiously at you, not sure if they should push. But it’s ultimately Spencer, leaning back on his chair that does.

“What was your last case?” Spencer asked. He does that eye thing where he squints at you, and you know he’s trying to place you. Eidetic memory or not, he was struggling to place you and you’re pretty sure you know why. Your father’s book had been face down on someone’s desk, and you’re 90% sure Spencer was the one reading it. 

“Dollhouse,” you say, trying to remember the real case name. Spencer doesn’t respond, but everyone else at the table grimaces. JJ’s head snaps up, her blue eyes wide.

“That case was a PR nightmare. Didn’t the parents try to solve it?” She leans forward and you note that for a split second there’s life breathed into her.

“The parents were frustrated the case hadn’t progressed at the rate they thought it would so… yeah, they took it into their own hands.” You watch JJ carefully, trying not to make it too obvious. When Spencer cocks his head, you realise this is probably one of the few cases he hasn’t read about yet. “Four teens with… uh… influential parents were blackmailed for three years then just… disappeared. They’re all physically fine, but mentally.” You shrug and pick at the chips. JJ nods, her curiosity telling you she knows a lot more than you’d originally thought.

“There were five parents between the four of them, right? The mayor, a doctor, two lawyers and…” JJ trails off.

“Private school principle,” you finish. “All of them were not camera shy.” JJ chuckles, and you immediately feel like you’ve accomplished something.

“Wait,” Prentiss says, leaning back on her chair. “That’s the case where the team dropped out, right? They were putting out feelers for new team members towards the end of the case, then the job offers just disappeared.”

You swallow nervously. “Yeah. The unsub wrote a letter threatening our families. When no one backed down, old cases started surfacing that implemented them all in old crimes. Became a bit of a taboo job.”

“But you stayed,” Morgan said with an impressed smile. You glance at him and nod. “There were no crimes they implemented you in?”

You think about the stack of paperwork that had dropped onto your desk early one morning. How you’d spent eleven hours in an interrogation room with the director of the FBI of all people. How you’d had to recount your husband’s death over and over again until telling people about it became nothing more than words. 

“Apparently not,” you say and you’re keenly aware that you’re at a table of profilers. Dave’s eyes narrow at you but it’s gone in a moment. Spencer sits up as if something’s stabbed him, then produces the book like a trophy.

“This is you,” he says tapping at the book. 

“That,” you say, pointing at the book, “is my dad. But yes, I closed that case.”

“He’s not mentioned your name in the whole book, I’ve read it through three times. Not once. Some of it doesn’t even match with the case file. I would love to talk about it sometime--” 

“Reid,” Aaron says lowly, but you smile at him, telling him it’s okay.

“Sometime sounds good,” you smile at him. “We can do coffee with my therapist on speed dial.” You laugh, giving the table permission to laugh also. Everyone except Dave and Aaron, who watch you far too closely.

Reid’s eyes jump and you think he’s questioning whether you’re serious, so you just nod when your eyes meet. 

“Those are two tough cases to close,” Morgan notes. 

“I’ve seen enough of the inside of a courtroom for a lifetime.” Which is partly true, but when you look around the table you think you’d do it all again for them. Which is insane, because you’re not coming back, but.

You stop yourself. There’s no ‘buts’. You’re not coming back. 

Saskia calls at eight on the dot. Before you can say hi you’re assaulted with the plot of the last Kim Possible episode she watched, which transitioned into Hannah Montana with no warning. You pretend to be surprised by Kim and Ron saving the day, and that someone almost found out that Miley was Hannah. You excuse yourself from the table, Aaron catching your eye as you duck outside.

Floor to ceiling windows are cursed, you think as you pace out the front because you can’t just lean up against the wall.

“How was school?” you ask, scuffing your foot against the sidewalk.

“Good. Mr. Davids asked where you were and I told him you were helping people and he said I should talk about it for show and tell but Grandad said that’s not a good idea.” 

“I’m sure grandad can help you make something,” you mutter. 

“Are you having fun?” she asks plainly. You stutter, and Saskia continues. “You said that if you don’t have fun there’s no point doing it, Mom.” you can practically see her cross her arms. 

“Alright, munchkin, I’ll remember that. When are you going to bed?”

“After I say good night. Also, Mom, Grandad doesn’t know how to use the camera so I had to teach him but I think he might have broken it.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. He bought me littlest pet shop cats and told me I’m not allowed to tell you.”

“Consider me not told.” 

“Ok. G’night Mom.”

“Yeah, G’night. Love you.” Saskia mumbles ‘love you’ back and suddenly you’re not in the mood for dinner anymore. You glance through the windows, then leave, going back to the hotel.

***

You finally check your emails at two.

In the morning.

Impulse control is lacking. 

Strauss has emailed you the job application. If she thinks you’re worth it then… wait, a second email. From Strauss. She’s written at length about the job, offering it to your more than once, then. Clearance for field work, endorsed by your previous boss. It’s instinct to flick through your contacts, find Fornell, and text ‘thanks’ with no context. He responds, ‘welcome’ almost immediately. 

Your dad’s emailed as well. You skim it, because he waffles most of the time (how else would he have written a book about you, without ever mentioning your name), but the main bulk of the email is that you need to do what makes you happy. Even if that’s doing your job somewhere else and--the cursed application. 

Three times is a charm, right, but four? What is that? Fate? You shut your laptop, grab a jacket, and take another trip around the block. 

When you come back, JJ’s on a bench outside her room. The moths are swooping the light above her, dipping down low enough that they look like they’re hitting her in the face. You debate going back into your room and leaving her be, but she’s seen you.

You smile and sit beside her.

“Hey,” you say. She smiles at you, but it’s not real. “Tough case.”

JJ hums. “Not as hard as yours.”

The mom gene in you snaps, and trying to keep your voice conversational you say: “Comparing your own limit to someone else’s is never going to work for you.” You glance at JJ, who’s looking at you, and continue. “Do you want to know why I’m the only agent that stayed on Dollhouse from start to finish?” JJ nods. “Because I totally disregarded my own existence. Genuinely, that’s not a joke. For those last eight months, I didn’t take a single day off. I barely slept, I ate when there was something in front of me, and I lived in my office. I’d convinced myself that any failure in the case was my own fault. Y’know why?”

JJ shakes her head. “Why?”

“One of the girls, Adelaide, was on the debate team at her school. She had the same haircut I’d had, and hair color, and before she’d been kidnapped she had such… a passion. I’d only talked to her twice, but I could see myself in her. I could see my daughter in her. She’d called me the night she got kidnapped because she’d gotten into nationals for debate. 

“When it was confirmed, the… that the girls were gone, I’d convinced myself I should have seen the signs. When they switched out the team, gave us time off, I told my boss I didn’t need it. When I did, his daughter was threatened on an unrelated case and I told him I could keep going because Saskia was fine.”

“Okay,” JJ mumbled, not seeing the point.

“Tough cases are relative. Just because you’ve done worse before, or you’re doing better now, doesn’t mean it’s any less or more tough.”

“Why did you leave DC? You told Emily you didn’t transfer.”

“Tough wasn’t relative anymore. I got off Dollhouse and they put me on a child trafficking case almost immediately. Then an interagency case with AFOSI, then NCIS, and there’s only so long you can burn a candle at both ends. They thought I’d be fine because I saw Dollhouse through from start to finish, and the White Lily too. Wanna know a secret?” you lean into JJ and she smirks. “I wasn’t fine.”

You rub JJ’s back. “Don’t be afraid to acknowledge your limits, JJ. It’s better than burning through them.”

“You know,” JJ started, her smile telling you she’s about to change the subject. “The agency is looking--”

“Uh, no, if this is about the job.” You side eye her and she smirks a little. “I’m thinking about it,” you confess. “But only because I promised I would.”

“You wouldn’t work cases alone,” she offers.

You pat her shoulder. “Get some sleep. Whatever happens while you sleep isn’t your fault, okay? Trust me.”

“I feel like everytime we stop we’re just letting these girls suffer.” 

Your heart breaks a little. “JJ, look at me. It would be letting them suffer if you worked tired. Working tired is when mistakes happen.” Your eyes flick across her face, and satisfied she understands, you repeat yourself. “Get some sleep.” 

She nods, and you watch her stand and go back into her room. You sit there until her bedside lamp flicks off, then retreat back to your own. You’re closing the door when Aaron slips in, bumping his head against the door frame as he tries to be sneaky.

“You didn’t end up eating,” he explains, thrusting a cold take out bag at you. You’re about to comment on how eating cold chips is gross, when you open it and see two boxes of noodles. You can’t argue with that.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” you say, taking out a box and handing him the second one. You both sit on the floor, because getting the sauce on the bed sheets was far too stressful.

“Have you given any more thought to the job?” Aaron asks and you point your chopsticks at him accusingly. 

“I said I would think about it,” you say through the food in your mouth. “And that’s all I’ve done. I don’t go back on a promise.” 

“I know,” he responds defensively. “Thanks for talking to JJ. And being patient with Reid.”

“What’s there to be patient with? He’s just curious.” You fish around your box for a good noodle. “You used to be curious too.”

He looks at you through his lashes and kicks your knee softly. You sway dramatically, as if the kick was far harder than it truly was. 

“Dave wasn’t good with him on his first day.”

“One, Aaron, this is not my first day. Two, Dave isn’t good with anyone on his first day. He’s a marine. They exude ‘follow orders or die’ from every pore. I seem to remember you and Dad didn’t get along when you first met, either.”

It’s Aaron’s turn to poke his chopsticks at you accusingly. “That’s not my fault. You and Haley snuck me and Felix through your upstairs window.”

“And you weren’t quiet about it.”

“I broke my LEG.”

“You weren’t quiet,” you shrug and look down at your food, trying not to smirk. Aaron chuckles quietly.

When you’ve both finished eating Aaron collects up the rubbish, and stands. He surveys you for a moment, then smiles.

“Get some sleep,” he says. 

You stand and grasp your hands in front of you because there’s nothing else to do with them.

“Yeah, you too,” you respond.

After he’s left you shower and crawl into bed, cursing at your second late night. The bed’s notably empty without Aaron keeping you awake. Or without Aaron. You turn on the lamp, fishing through the bedside drawer for reading material. Your phone buzzes and you pick it up, groaning.

Text from: Aaaaaronnnn  
Turn your light off.

Reply:  
Creep

Aaaaaronnnn:  
Night.

Reply:  
Night.

And a second later, you flick your light off.


	4. Chapter 4

Aaron doesn’t look like he’s slept a wink, and honestly neither does JJ, as she announces a new abduction. The team bounce ideas off each other until they all come to the conclusion that it’s one of two people. They break into teams of two, leaving you with JJ and Aaron. Arriving at the Wilkinson farm you tap the car window, pointing to the barn. Reid and Hotch make various noises of agreement. 

“Got your gun?” Hotch mutters as you’re both leaning against the car bonnet. You tap the gun at your hip. Strauss had somehow pulled a couple of strings and the local law enforcement were nice enough to lend you one. Or they were just scared of Strauss. Either way.

When permission was given, you enter the barn. The first thing you notice is the smell. It’s something you’d never forget, the stench of alcohol and blood, soaked up by hay. The stables are empty, which you’re glad for until you realised that meant the girls were somewhere else. Restraints hung from the ceiling, the metal making your stomach churn.

“Reid, Y/L/N,” Aaron says as he pulls a stall open.

The three of you stare at the axe and blood soaked chopping block. There was something you didn’t miss about the job.

***

Aaron’s talking to the younger Mrs. Wilkinson when you get into the house, the pregnant lady quietly repeating that she didn’t know where else he went to be alone. You smile at her when she meets your eye, pulling out a seat at the table. She’s not entirely telling the truth, and judging by Aaron’s lingering look at her he knows that too.

You guide her towards the table as Hotch goes to the other room at JJ’s call, sitting her down.

“I don’t know where he goes,” she says to you. 

“I know,” you smile. She relaxes significantly. It’s curiosity that draws you to the window, as the yelling starts. You peel the curtain back, eyes flicking back to the woman at the table. You can hear the conversation clearly, and you know she’s hearing it too.

Hotch taps your shoulder when the information comes through, handing you an earpiece. You slide it on, joining Morgan, Hotch and the Sheriff as you follow the path to the suspected secondary location. 

It’s a small service entrance carved into a rocky hill. The Sheriff picks the lock, Aaron pushing you through before him. You hear the girl before you see her, shoving your gun into your waistband. Bad move, sure, but both Morgan and Aaron chorus that they’ve got you. 

“Tara?” you say to the conscious girl, recognising the unconscious one from the photographs in the station. She nods and you kneel beside her, pulling the chains free.

“Can you stand?” Aaron asks her, pulling her up. 

“I’ll take her to JJ,” you say quietly and Aaron nods. 

You guide Tara down, whispering where to watch her step. JJ looks up with bright, doe eyes and you beckon her forward. She grabs a blanket, tossing it around Tara’s shoulders.

“Molly?” JJ whispers.

“Unconscious. She’ll be okay.”

You watch JJ, with that little bit of healing settling into her, and smile. The small nod from Aaron is all the confirmation you need. Maybe you will take that job.

***

It doesn’t take long into the ride home before Reid passes you your laptop. You drop your phone in your lap, text to Haley half written. 

“What’s this for?” you ask.

“Rossi said you should stop thinking.” 

You sigh dramatically, then open it. The job application is open, staring at you, and you know it’s all Rossi’s fault. So in the quietness of the post-case car, you fill out the application. When you’re done you close it, resting your badge on top of your laptop. When you look up, Aaron actually smiles at you in the revision mirror.

***

One text to Haley later, and a wad of paper under your arm, you’re finally ready to go home. Which is when Strauss ambushes you at your car.

“Which one of us convinced you, then?” she asks, a car distance away.

“Me,” you respond, throwing your go bag into the backseat. “And I still haven’t applied.” You hold the application in your hands, as if the weight of it actually means something to you.

“It’s exactly what you asked for when you resigned from DC,” the blonde woman says. “A step down, people to work under and with. From this last case, I’d say you got on with the team.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. She’s not wrong. 

“Is something holding you back?” She takes a step forward. 

Saskia, you think. You had promised to spend time with her, that the move would mean you weren’t working yourself into the ground. This job would be no different, there’d just be more of you. But maybe this would be different. Yeah, this’ll be different.

“Do you want this now or when I feel like sending it to you?” Maybe it’s a little harsh, but Strauss takes it in her stride. She holds out her hands, her face flat. You swallow, then close the distance between you and press the application into her hands. 

“You’re an asset to the Bureau,” Strauss smiles as she tucks it under her arm. You don’t smile back at her.

***

You meet Haley at Jess’s. She squeals when she sees you, even though it’s far too late to be making that kind of noise. She flies down the steps, slamming into you. You stumble, laughing slightly. 

“Hello,” you say, letting go of her long enough to lock your car. “I can’t stay for long, Saskia’s at home.” It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s mainly an excuse not to stay if things go south. 

“How old is she now?” Haley asks, linking your arms. 

“Seven. No, eight. Almost nine, but we don’t tell her that.” 

Haley laughs, putting her head on your arm. You wonder how soon is too soon to drop that you know about the divorce. Jess raises an eyebrow at you and you smile, if only to be polite. Haley pressed a cold drink into your hand--lemonade, she assures you--and you both collapse onto Jess’s sofa. Haley pulls her legs up onto the sofa, sticking her feet in your lap.

“What brings you back?” she asks, wiggling her toes.

“I quit my job,” you say, raising your glass to your lips. “Then I applied for a new one.”

Haley laughs, her mouth open in shock. “You’ve never quit before. You should’ve called and told me.”

You’ve never gotten divorced before, you think. You should have called me.

Instead, you nod. “Yeah, I should have.”

“Have you got a place?” she asks. 

You shake your head. House shopping was one of your least favourite activities; it was just an opportunity for you to think about all the horrible things that could happen. Tactical advantages wasn’t something one should think about when buying a house, or renting one, and yet all you can do is debate a closed floor plan compared to an open one. 

“I’m staying at Dad’s.”

“He’s still living there?” Haley cocks her head at you. 

“I like your haircut,” you comment, avoiding the question. Haley runs her hand through her short hair and smiles. Her phone buzzes and she picks it up, frowning then grinning and passing it to Jess.

“That’s all he’s going to say?” Jess grumbles, giving Haley back the phone. 

“Hales?” you prompt, your own phone buzzing. She ignores you, throwing her phone to the coffee table. You catch the flash of ‘Aaron Hotchner’ and your eyes flick to her. She turns her face away, blinking rapidly. You squeeze her foot to get her attention and she glances at you. 

“It’s nothing,” she says quietly. But Jess starts stomping around the room opposite, in an easily noticeable imitation of Aaron. Haley knows you know, it’s all over her face as she pulls away from you, placing her cup on the coffee table.

“Uh huh?” you curl up, then rock yourself forward and rest a hand on her shoulder. You wait for her to confess about the divorce, because surely that’s what this is. But then she turns her head to you. 

“Aaron and I are getting divorced.” You nod, because you know, but she looks like there’s something weighing heavily on her shoulders. “Promise not to be mad?”

“Sure,” you say, because nothing can be THAT bad.

“I-I cheated on him,” she whispers.

A promise is a promise. So you don’t get mad. You get disappointed. And it’s all over your face, in the way your hand lightens on her shoulder. You don’t say her name, that’s giving her too much. 

“Does he know?” you whisper. Haley nods. 

A piece of work, you think but don’t say it. Because you promised not to be mad. But still, this was something Haley should have let you be mad about. Jess does something particularly dramatic, and you shake your head, checking your pockets for your stuff.

“Where are you going?” she asks, eyes wide.

“Hales,” you breath. “Hun, I promised not to be mad, and to keep that I have to go somewhere I can’t see your face.” Okay, so maybe that’s a little harsh, but your friendship has survived much harsher.

“Why?” she squeaks. You deadpan her, then turn on your heel and stalk from the house. You don’t slam the door, even if you wanted to, just because you know Jack’s somewhere in the house. 

You climb into your car and press the heels of your hands into your eyes. 

When you arrive home, Aaron Hotchner is sitting on the front steps, beer bottle hanging between his fingers. You sigh, noticing your dad hanging by the window. 

“Hey big boy,” you smile sadly at him, kicking the car door shut. He looks up at you, blurry eyed.

“I din’t know w’ere t’ go,” he slurs. You sit next to him, running your hand through his hair. He nods, head falling to your shoulder. Your dad knocks on the window twice, telling you both to come inside, and you wave him off.

“How many did you have?” you ask, taking the bottle from him. You sniff it--regretting the action immediately--then down the rest of the bottle.

“S’me w’th Dave,” he mumbles, turning his face into your neck. 

“Some with Dave is too many with Dave,” you tell him. “Come on, inside.” You stand, steadying Aaron as he stands also. Well, he sways. He sways like a lego tower built too high. 

He crashes into everything on the way through to the guest room, despite multiple comments that he’s fine. Saskia’s door opens a sliver and you wave at her.

“I’ll come tuck you in in a second, Sweetie.”

Saskia frowns and nods, then her door closes again. You sit Aaron on the edge of the guest bed, shrugging him out of his jacket against his ‘i can do it’s’. You loosen his tie, discarding it to the floor. Your faces are impossibly close for a moment, Aaron’s eyes flicking over your face. It would be so easy to kiss him.

Nope.

You cup his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, then kiss his forehead. Sure, you might linger a little bit just because he’s drunk and there’s a chance he won’t remember. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. 

“I’m sorry about Haley,” you whisper against his skin. You stroke the back of his head, then step away despite his protests. “Get some sleep and pray you don’t have a hangover tomorrow.”

He groans, flopping back onto the mattress. You shake your head, going to the kitchen and digging through the cupboards. Your dad drops two advil beside you and slides an empty glass to you.

“For the Hotchner boy,” he says, and leaves, a thousand words left unsaid. 

Saskia’s sitting by her door when you come back, and you wave her back to bed.

“Can you stay in my room tonight?” she asks, eyes so big you can’t say no, even if it’s going to give you a million back issues by morning.

“Go get into bed, I’ll come in in a second.”

“Love you,” she says through a yawn.

“Love you too.”

Aaron’s not even in the bed properly when you come back in. His shirt’s half off, one arm still in, his shoes untied but still on, lying across the bed instead of in it. You place the advil and water on the bedside table, then maneuver Aaron the best you can because that man is a dead weight when he sleeps. 

You pull his shoes off, get the rest of his shirt off him, and place both at the end of the bed. You finally get him lying on the pillows, but it’s too hard to get him under the covers so you just throw a blanket over him. He hums as you pull the door shut and you smile at him.

Saskia’s pulled her bedding to the floor, and yours from your bed. There’s a circle of soft toys around her like a satanic ritual and you can’t help but smile.

“Is that uncle Aaron?” she asks as you lower yourself to the ground.

“Uh huh.” You tap her pillow, snuggling in next to her on the solid ground. She nestles under your arm and sighs.

“Are you going back to work?” she mumbles.

“Yes, Sweet. But it’s not like last time,” you press a kiss to her forehead, but you don’t think she really cares because she’s already softly snoring into your neck. There’s something sticking into your back and you can’t get it because you’ll wake your daughter.

It’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is ~the end of 3x11~ but only the beginning of this fic.  
> I lowkey loved ending on lil soft, drunk Hotch, just saying.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ somewhere after 3 x 14 ~
> 
> ! this is a ""filler"" chapter: getting a house, team bonding. ! Important later? Always.

House hunting after your husband was murdered is… a nightmare. 

A full nightmare.

You’ve been to three open houses in one day, each time it felt like you were walking into a prison. The houses were either shells, void of any furniture, just walls with paint and floors that echo when you breath. Which is exactly what a house is, but you’re not dealing with it. The other’s are too staged, the furniture crisp, clean, staged, and you can’t imagine putting any of your own stuff in it. 

At the third house, things had snowballed mentally. You weren’t sure if you wanted an open plan house (nowhere for bad guys to hide), or closed plan (somewhere for you and Saskia to hide). You’d just stood, turning, in the lounge, until you couldn’t catch your breath. Your ribs seared as you stumbled out of the house, crawling into your car and sobbing. You don’t want to be crying, but you are, and you can’t stop because everything’s overwhelming. 

Your phone rings.

Caller ID: Aaaaaronnnn

You answer it, taking a moment to control your breathing.

“Case?” you ask through a wet sniff. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nod like he can see you.

“House hunting,” you say by way of explanation. Aaron grunts and you think that he might be agreeing with you. “What’s up?”

“Just checking in.” 

You drop your head to the steering wheel. 

“This is dumb,” you mumble.

“When’s the next house?”

“An hour,” you respond.

“Text me the address.” 

So you do. When you arrive at the next house, Aaron’s leaning against his car, Garcia next to him. You wipe your eyes, trying to calm the puffiness from crying. Garcia’s face lights up when she sees you, running and pulling you into a massive hug.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask her, rubbing her back.

“I thought she could help,” Aaron says quietly. Garcia holds you at arms length, then cups your face.

“Never fear, we’ll find you a house in no time,” she says with more positivity than you’d ever thought a person could hold. 

The moment you step through the door, you know this house isn’t it. You can see the back door from the front door, rooms spurting out into a thin corridor sporadically. But Garcia forges ahead, notepad in hand, making notes with her fluffy pen. Aaron slips his hand into yours, fingers lacing with yours. He watches you closely as you shake your head.

“Tell me what’s wrong with it,” he says lowly, eye watching the real estate agent as he walks about the house. He weaves through the doors in and out of the corridor. The second thing.

“All rooms are connected.” You point out as the real estate agent practically appears beside you. “And.” You just motion down the hallway, not explaining yourself. Aaron watches the movement, and nods.

“Okay.”

He tugs you down the corridor, leading you through the house. He guides you into what could only be the lounge room, which connects to the kitchen without any separation. There’s not even a counter, it just goes straight from couch to stove. 

“That’s never going to work,” you say and even Aaron dad-grimaces. 

“Absolutely not.”

Garcia pauses at the entrance to the lounge-meets-kitchen, takes in the room, eyes glossing over you and Aaron, hands intertwined. She taps the feathers on the end her pen against her bottom lip and shook her head.

“This is a third strike. This house won’t work,” she says definitively. 

“Third strike?” you ask, head cocked. The blonde woman ushers you and Aaron through the house, weaving to the bedrooms. 

“This is the master,” she says, and stalks to the furthest wall where the window is. She takes another step, and the whole floor creaks, and you’re pretty sure you watch the whole carpet move. “Strike one.”

Then she curls her finger, and takes you back to the front of the house, pointing you into the room. It’s small, but aesthetically gorgeous. The front wall has a panelled window, the light dancing in, and you frown at Garcia, not sure how this is the second strike.

“This would be Saskia’s room. And the room you can see from the street.” She squeezes your shoulder, fluffy pen jammed between her fingers. “Never fear, my dear, we’ll find you the perfect house.”

“I’m not looking for perfect,” you say (even though, realistically, you are). “I just want livable.”

“Just give me some time to work, okay? I’ll find you something by tomorrow.” 

***

Aaron calls far too early, but you’re already awake because Saskia insisted on watching reruns of Scooby-Doo that started, also, far too early. 

“When do you want me?” you ask. Saskia’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing.

“Is that Uncle Aaron?” her voice is laced with judgements that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to shake. “You said you’re not going to work.”

“I’m not!” you squeak far too defensively to your daughter. Aaron laughs on the other end of the line.

“Put her on, go get shoes on,” he tells you. Reluctantly you hand the phone over to Saskia, who crosses one arm over her stomach and says ‘uh huh’ very judgmentally. When you come back, dressed with shoes on, Saskia’s standing at the front door. She’s put on her rain boots (it hasn’t been raining, but she likes the yellow, and they don’t have laces), and is holding her new floppy toy cat from Garcia. She’s tried to put her hair in pigtails but they’re all lopsided.

“Uncle Aaron said I can chaperone so I know you’re not working.” She tucks her cat under her arm and holds out her hand for you to hold. “Penny’s coming too.”

“Your cat’s called ‘Penny’ now?”

“Mhmm.”

When you open the door Aaron’s leaning against his car, dress in an oversized sweater that you know would have never fit him. He and Saskia share a look as she climbs into the car, and he grins at you. 

“You’re going to like this one,” he tells you as he closes the door behind you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Not saying,” Saskia says. You turn to her in the backseat, she has Penny pressed up against the window, waving her stuffed paw at the passing cars. 

Aaron shrugs and doesn’t look at you as he says “we made a pact.”

“Traitor.”

“You love me,” Aaron says back.

“Maybe,” you grumble.

“Gross!” Saskia squeals. “Can we get milkshakes later?”

Aaron glances at you, then catches Saskia’s eye in the review mirror. “We’ll see how Mom feels later, yeah?”

“Uh huh.” Then she’s distracted again because the driver next to the car is waving at her and Penny.

When you arrive at the house you can’t help but smile. It’s painted pale blue, washed out with age, but it looks… perfect. It’s got a cute white picket fence around the front garden, which is far too manicured (that’ll be full of weeds in a matter of days). Saskia clambers out of the car, squinting at the house. 

Aaron makes a show of opening the gate at different speeds, it squeaking loudly each time. You see the real estate grimace through the window then come out onto the stained veranda. 

“We’ll get that fixed,” she says.

You shake your head. For most people it would be annoying, sure, but it’s like an inbuilt security system with installing the security system. Saskia takes Aaron’s hand, swinging it dramatically. The real estate agent smiles at the three of you as you enter. You bypass most of the house, going straight through the corridor to the back of the house. It’s a large room, open plan, with a living room and dining room together. Garcia jumps when she sees you, tapping Morgan’s shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N,” Morgan smiles. Saskia looks at him wide eyed, then hides behind Aaron’s legs. 

“Hi Derek,” you say warmly. “What are you doing here?”

Saskia gasps, tugging on Aaron’s arm until he drops to his knees so she can whisper in his ear. 

“Can we show you the house?” Garcia asks. You glance at Aaron, who nods, while Saskia’s still whispering in his ear. Morgan immediately drops into work mode, motioning behind him to outside.

“You’ve got a car port outside, it’s not connected to the house. I don’t know where you stand on that, but it makes me feel better,” Morgan says. “Garcia mentioned you were uncomfortable with the front door going through to the back door, which I know you’ve probably already taken note of”--you had, admittedly-- “but there's actually a door blocking that walk way, you just walked passed it.” You glance back at the corridor, where indeed there is a door.

The real estate agent raises her eyebrow as she passes you all, rounding the house. 

“The Kitchen's over here,” Garcia says, grabbing your wrist. It’s modern, with marble countertops which look perfect. “Walk-in pantry.” Garcia opens the doors for a legitimate walk-in pantry that you could live in.

“This is too much,” you say quietly. 

“This isn’t even the whole house,” Morgan smiles. You retrace the steps you took coming in the house, Aaron and Saskia’s voices can be heard but you can’t see them anywhere.

Garcia motions to the room on your left, “this is a third room. Guest room, study, either way works.” You glance in, taking in the wooden floorboards and paisley green walls. You point at the colour and Morgan shrugs. 

“Colours can be changed,” he says.

“Bathroom,” Garcia says. The tiles are a soft blue, almost the same colour as the outside. But on the top half of the wall has a beach mural painted on it. Garcia blooms when she sees that you’ve noticed. “That’s my favourite part too.”

“This would be Saskia’s room,” Morgan says as he guides you into another room. “You can see the road from her room, I do want to tell you that.” He pushes the curtains back, pointing out to the road. “But you can’t see inside. The windows are tinted. I’ve checked.”

Garcia nods. “He has.”

You nod slowly, taking it in. 

“There used to be a fireplace right here,” Morgan says, walking over to the wall opposite the window. He stands where there’s now a built in window seat. Which is in a weird spot, seeing as there’s no window. Morgan lifts the lid, Saskia giggling. “It’s the perfect place to hide your children. Plus, if you kick out the end you--”

“Come out the closet,” Aaron finished, coming out of it as he says it. He looks far too smug.

“That’d be the first time you’ve done that,” you say dryly. He squints at you playfully and you try so hard not to squeeze his jaw back. Wherever that impulse had come from, you try to push it down. 

Saskia taps on Morgan’s leg and says “Are you Garcia’s hot friend?” 

You snort and Aaron beckons you, taking your hand. He squeezes lightly, pulling you close as he guides you into the last room. Your breath hitches as you look around, eyes landing on the bay window with the cutest window seat you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“Aaron,” you breathe.

“You said you wanted one before graduation,” he says. “I figured it couldn’t hurt to add it to Garcia’s checklist. It’s the least I could do.”

“Why?”

“You’re my friend.” He brushes your hair behind your ear and gives you a quick peck to your forehead. You can’t help but blush, even if you don’t want to. “It also has a…” he drum rolls in the air, then opens one of the two doors on the wall across from the window. “Walk-in wardrobe.”

The first thing you note is that it’s big enough to hide in when you want alone time. It would be extra nice if you dropped a bean bag or two in it. Aaron leans into you and you note that he’s incredibly close to you. Body pressed against yours, mouth impossibly close to your ear and you have to remind yourself that he’s a newly divorced man who used to be married to your (high school) best friend. 

“Don’t put a bean bag in here, you’re a grown adult," he whispers, his breath ghosting against your ear.

“I’ll do what I want, Aaron,” you whine. He chuckles and you feel the vibrations through you. You close your eyes, half savouring the moment, half hoping he steps away before you do something dumb. 

“There’s an ensuite through there,” he says and taps the wall next to you. “It’s really got everything.”

You turn your head up to him, half glaring, and he’s looking down at you softly. 

It’s only a given that you sign for the house that afternoon.

***

Saskia gets her milkshake. 

You’re at a roadside diner you, Haley, Aaron and Felix used to go to all the time. It was close enough to home that you could all scarper before curfew (because, yes, you were those teens). You’d been debating where to go all afternoon, but by the time you and Aaron had agreed what side of town to go on it was too late for most people to be open on the weekend. So the diner it was.

Saskia’s got her hands wrapped around a milkshake that’s far too big for her (honestly, it’s like the size of her torso), grazing at the bowl of fries you’ve bought. Every now and then she stops, offers some to Penny, and then whispers something to the toy cat.

Aaron’s got a strawberry milkshake, and he’s spent the last ten minutes drawing pictures in the condensation it’s left on the table. You reach over and wipe his new drawing off the table.

“Why’d Garcia bring Morgan?” you ask. You pick up a fry, dipping it into Aaron’s milkshake. He squeaks, pulling his shake out of the way violently. He almost spills it all over himself, Saskia looking up quickly.

“Careful!” she orders. You hide your smile behind your hand as Saskia puts her hands on her hips dramatically. “Back on the table.”

Aaron hangs his head sheepishly, putting the shake back on the table. “It’s back on the table.”

“Mom, no putting your fries in his drink. That’s Uncle Aaron’s.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you say, trying so, so hard not to laugh. Even Aaron is, covering his lower face while Saskia tells you both off. It’s impossible not to dissolve into giggles.

“Uh,” Aaron says while he tries to breath through his laughter. “Garcia,” he takes a deep breath, turns to you, and puts his hand against the side of his face to block out Saskia so he doesn’t dissolve into laughter again. “Garcia noticed you were nervous about layout. Spencer said it might help if Morgan does a tactical sweep.” He drops his eyes from you. 

You shake your head but smile at him. Because it’s true, it did help. Far more than you’re willing to admit. You reach over and grab Aaron’s hand under the table and squeeze it.

“Thank-you.”

Aaron glances back up. “Anytime.”

***

It takes three weeks to move in. It starts with a box or two, and then a thousand flat packs, and then you remember how gross the paisley green wall was. On the second week you’ve got a checklist of things to do when you’re called back to DC for a court case. You’re assured by the team that it will be fine, that everything will turn out the way you’ve planned it.

Although, as you climb out your car after the court case is done, coming back to your new house, you know it’s not going to get done. Because it’s Friday night and you had a list of things to be done by Sunday. You groan, thinking about sleeping on a mattress on the floor once more as you unlock the door and open it to the scent of… shortbread?

You look down the hallway to see JJ and Prentiss, beers in hand, leaning up against the back door. Prentiss smiles and raises her bottle to you as you shut the door. You nervously slink into the kitchen, dropping your go bag against the wall.

They’ve put your house together. An absolute miracle, to be honest. There’s a display of candles on the centre of your dining room table, a cute sofa separating the dining room from lounge. 

“Who did all this?” you ask quietly. Rossi presses a drink into your hand.

“We all did,” he says.

“Why?” you laugh in disbelief. Emily cocks her head at you in the same disbelief.

“Why not?” Emily laughs. “Rossi’s made dinner, too.”

There’s a playful squeal from the backyard and a paint covered Saskia comes flying into the house, with Spencer close on her heels. She sees you and launches into your arms, almost toppling you over.

“Spence’s chasing me!” she half squeaks, half giggles. The commotion draws the whole team into your kitchen-come-dining room, all dressed in old, grotty clothes that are covered in paint and god knows what else.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” you say quietly.

“You haven’t seen the whole house,” JJ presses. You eye her off and she motions behind you, to where Aaron’s drying his hands. He smiles meekly at you and turns, ushering you to the three bedrooms.

The guest room is painted a washed-out-duck-egg-blue. There’s a desk pressed up against the far wall, with a fold out day bed. Your bookcases line the free wall, your books in all the wrong order but it looks nice.

“Spencer put your books in alphabetical order by classification. I don’t know that series mattered to him,” Aaron chuckles.

“We both know I’ll fix it later,” you say back.

Saskia’s room had definitely been touched by the likes of Garcia and JJ. It’s an assault of colour, crystal pendants hanging from her window. The old-fire-place-come-window-seat had toys stacked on top of it, a rainbow rug thrown on her floor. There’s a collection of toys and furniture you’ve never seen before (especially the leaning bookshelf that holds 1 book series, the rest of the shelves filled with trinkets).

Aaron takes your wrist as he guides you to your room. Prentiss smirks at you and you don’t have time to frown at her before you’re brought into the most beautiful room you’ve ever seen.

Fairy lights are draped above your bay window. There’s a collection of pillows tossed over the seat, a hard copy of ‘Sense & Sensibility’ far too easily staged on top of the seat. Someone’s put your bed frame together (bless them, honestly). You’ve got a sunset quilt cover set that you’ve never seen before.

“That’s not mine,” you say quietly. 

“Prentiss bought them,” Aaron smiles.

“The goth queen bought me a sunset quilt cover?”

“Uh huh. Wanna see the best part?” His hand rests on your wardrobe’s handle, and you nod. He opens it in a slow, dramatic reveal.

Work clothes are separated from your casual clothes (you have no idea who figured that out), and then there’s two bean bags pressed in the corners of the room, a small table between them.

“I thought you said no beanbags, Aaron.”

“I’ll do what I want, y/n,” he says softly. You chuckle and turn around, to come face to face with Aaron’s chest.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you whisper, busying with yourself by tugging down his torn shirt, soothing out the wrinkles. 

“I needed something to do,” he confesses. “And I didn’t want you to be behind on your checklist.”

He’s impossibly close again. So close you can feel his breath across your face, that you can almost feel it when he bats his eyelashes. His hand brushes across your cheek, cupping it softly. It’s instinct to nuzzle up against it closing your eyes.

Divorced.

Recently.

You remind yourself, but he’s so close and… oh god he’s so close. Your noses brush and your hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer. One hand cups the back of your head.

“Aaron,” you whisper warningly. He nods, coming closer and then--

“Dinner,” Rossi says from your door. 

The spell’s broken immediately, your hands falling from his shirt and his hand leaving your cheek. You scratch your hair awkwardly and slink by Aaron, feeling like a teen caught in the act. 

You’re pretty sure you shouldn’t feel like that when you don’t live at your dad’s house anymore. Even the look Rossi gives you makes you feel guiltier than anything. You just hope no one else picks up on it at dinner.

Dinner with a bunch of profilers.

Brilliant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, confession, this was intended as a filler but it snowballed. I love the team outside work hahaha.


	6. Chapter 6

Dinner turns into chaos once Saskia goes to bed. Rossi gets a phone call from an ex-wife that’s bound to go south, so he leaves, Morgan and Garcia not soon after. Aaron gets a phone call from Haley that isn’t horrible (for once) although it is a sour phonecall about how Jack wants him. Which leaves you, JJ and Emily curled on your couch, wine in hand, with Spencer on the floor twisting a wooden puzzle in his hands. He’s already completed it twice, but now he looks like he’s trying to break it.

“Did you know before they renovated this place, this was the master bedroom?” Spencer pipes up. “I found the original floor plans with the real estate agent, it really looks quite different.” 

You place your hand on his head as you’d do with Saskia when she starts talking about something you’re not quite listening to and he smiles, content at the attention. He points to the photo wall that JJ and Emily had put together, and for the first time you notice the framed blueprints above your TV.

“The frame is cheap, but it was the closest color I could get to the rest of the frames,” he confesses. “Saskia thought you would like them. She helped. We also got ice-cream.”

“Thanks, Spence,” you smile at him. 

Emily gasps excitedly, launching up from the sofa. She goes under the TV cabinet and pulls out an a4 size box, a sleeping bear on the lid. The base of the box is duct taped at the corners (definitely yours, then), then lid duct taped on later. They’re two vastly different colors, which you didn’t think was possible.

“What’s in this? Highschool memorabilia?” Emily presses. You grabby hands for the box, a little too buzzed to think about what could actually be inside the box. You hack at the tape with the with the wine opener, cutting at the tape where the base of the lid should be.

You peel it back when it’s free, immediately recognising the box. Although you’re not sure why you ever taped it shut. You pull out a pair of hand knitted white and blue baby boots, earning two very over exaggerated ‘awwwws’ from Emily and JJ. 

There’s other things of Saskia’s, mainly the clothes you used to always dress her in. There’s a small envelope with Haley’s curly handwriting on the front that you study for a moment before opening it. The seal’s no longer sticky but it has that hard residue with pieces of torn paper on it. You pull out a photograph, before laughing in disbelief.

It’s a photograph from Halloween of your graduating year. You’d just gotten an (admittedly questionable) haircut, and were wearing far too oversized glasses that you’d taken from your dad’s study. The four of you had, somehow, managed to dress up as Mystery Incorporated. Haley’s got on a horrendous orange wig (not as bad as Aaron’s blonde one) and Felix… well, he’s just Felix. He didn’t need any costume to make him look like Shaggy. 

You debate showing them, but Spencer’s arching his back to look up at the picture in your hand. 

“Who is that,” he says, hooking a finger over your wrist and pulling it down to his eyesight. “Is that Hotch?” his voice squeaks in surprise. 

“Yeah,” you laugh and Spencer’s plucking it from your fingers. 

Emily and JJ launch for it, joining him. You pull your knees up to your chest as you sift through the rest of the box. A yearbook you’re never going to show anyone, long-wordy letters exchanged at graduation, the flowers you wore in your hair at your wedding. A couple of cards you were sent when Saskia was born. 

Your fake ID from after Felix died. Saskia’s too, lists of houses you’d jumped between for two years. The contact for your old Marshall. The letter you’d written for Haley and Aaron on the event of your death, thanking them for looking after Saskia should it come to that. There’s tissue paper at the base of the box and you pull it back.

Your divorce papers. Signed and ready to give to Felix. Dated the day you came home and found him dead. You push the tissue paper back in place, shove everything back down, and close the lid, thankful that your friend’s are too busy poking fun at Hotch. 

You slink off the couch, holding the box close to your chest. You think about storing it in your bedroom, but end up in the spare bedroom, pushing it to the back of the highest shelf and pulling blankets in front of it. There’s a soft light emitting from your daughter’s bedroom, little periodic taps following tiny little whispers. You tiptoe over, pushing the door open.

She looks up guiltily, snapping the lid of her DS shut.

“I’m going to bed,” she whispers. 

“What were you doing?” you whisper back, maybe a little dramatically. She studies you, then pats the bed beside her and reopens her DS. She points at the dogs on the screen, one Shetland Sheepdog (Saskia’s favourite) and one German Shepherd. 

“This is Spike,” she says pointing to the sheepdog, “and this is Hotch. Jack chose him.” You chuckle slightly, sliding your arm over her. “We’re going to raise the puppies together but if you don’t look after them really well then they’ll run away.”

“Puppies need sleep, too.”

“Did you have fun in DC?” she asks, throwing a soccer ball to the virtual puppies.

You pat her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead. There’s no way you can lie to her so you just say: “I missed being here. With you.” 

She looks at you accusingly. “And Uncle Aaron.”

“No,” you laugh, kissing her forehead. “You.” 

“Are we going to stay here?” 

You pull your legs onto the bed and cock your head at her. “Of course.”

She crosses her arms dramatically. “Last time we moved this much we didn’t get to talk to anyone. And then you went back to work and now we’re here.”

You reach over, taking the DS from her and closing it. You settle it at the end of the bed and take her hands in yours, pressing your forehead to hers.

“You are a very talented young lady, you know that?” (and she giggles). “We’re staying, and nothing, whatsoever, is going to change that, okay?”

“Okay.” She grabs her covers and climbs under them. “I had fun this week.” 

“Yeah?”

Then she gasps dramatically and she’s out of bed again, grabbing three new ‘My Little Pony’s’ from under her bed.

“You’ve been spoilt, little miss.” 

She nods. “I got to choose them while JJ and Garcia found stuff.” She tucks them in with her as she gets back under the covers. 

It’s far past midnight before anyone who’s left in your house thinks about leaving, and you end up leaving Emily and JJ on your sofa, and Spencer in the daybed. 

In the morning you all get the dreaded text.

There’s a case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was *literal filler*. Next up we have a... non-canon case that I'm very excited for (rubs hands together excitedly) and the end of s3/start s4. Which I am exicteddd forrrr (jumps up and down while whispering "angst!" over and over again.)


	7. Chapter 7

The case is tough as it is, but it’s not made any better when the hotel the team had booked confessed to having double booked. The town you’re in has a festival on and it’s the only time they’re fully booked, which is why the body’s were found to start. So far it was only six women, buried in a garden with mushrooms grown over them. Nasty stuff. You’ve already sent Garcia a bunch of flowers by way of apology for having to look at the images.

Aaron’s in a horrible mood when you both pull into the carpark of the motel. It’s the last place with two rooms and it’s completely across town. The thunderstorm outside hasn’t assisted in calming him, especially when the rain came down so hard you could barely see the road. 

He climbs out of the car when he parks in front of reception, pulling his jacket over his head to protect himself from the rain. You watch him through the car window as he paces inside the reception, looking like he’s ready to square up with the man working, but he doesn’t. He grabs the key from the reception, nods, and holds it between his two fingers as though he’d disgusted. He comes back into the car, tossing the key into the cup holder.

“One key?” you enquire.

“We didn’t book the second one,” he says sourly. He pulls a face as he pulls the car out, parking it into the designated spot for your room.

When you get to room 112, you know it’s not going to be brilliant. The fluorescent light above the door flickers like it belongs in a horror film, the rain running down the wall despite a balcony being above you. You hop foot to foot, go bag over your shoulder, bracing against the cold, icy rain. Aaron fumbles with the door.

When he gets it open, it’s not any better. 

There’s only one bed, pressed up against a dusty wall that looks like it’s weeping dirt. It’s not a double bed, or even a king, it’s literally just. A single bed. The size of Saskia’s bed at home. It’s not going to fit two people at all. The sofa they’ve somehow shoved in the room looks like it’ll fall apart if you breathe on it. There’s a rusty bar fridge behind the door which is never going to keep anything cold, and the bathroom light looks like it’ll fall off the vanity and kill you.

“At least there’s no rats,” you say as you drop your shoulder to get by him and throw your go-bag onto the sofa. When Hotch doesn’t move you pry his go-bag out of his hand out of his hands, hauling it to the bed. “I’ll take the couch.”

Hotch seems stuck in place. It takes him a full minute of your whining about the rain getting in for him to pull himself away from the door and shut it. There are no words between you as he eyes off the room like it’s going to swallow him whole. You shake your head at him and flick the bathroom light on.

It does nothing except make the light flicker incessantly and buzz until the bathroom smells funky. You turn it off before it explodes and shatters glass around the room. 

Hotch steps behind you and flicks the light switch like him doing it would change the outcome. You can feel his arm brushing against your shoulder as he taps at the switch, grunting. You swallow nervously, trying to keep your breathing incheck lest he realises that you’re pretty close to graduating from dumb-school-yard-crush to full-on-in-love with him. 

“Light’s pretty bad,” Hotch observes. He pushes past you, turns off the light, and begins fiddling with the long, thin, bulb. You squirm as a moth the size of a small country falls into the sink. You make the six steps to the couch and sift through your go bag for your pyjamas.

There’s a thousand places you’d rather sleep, you think as something crawls over your sneaker and you have to jam your fist in your mouth to stop screaming. There’s no way you’re letting Aaron see you squeal about creepy crawlies. Not when he’d loom it over your head in front of the team. 

“Fixed the light,” he grumbles.

“Aaron,” you whisper dramatically. “I think there’s a third living being in this room with us.” Out the corner of his eye you see his hand fly to his gun, and as if on queue a palm sized cockroach scurries over the back of the couch and up the wall.

Aaron squeals. He’s not the big, burly, BAU boss in that moment, but a scared little boy wanting someone to kill the insect for him. You’ve got your shoe off in a heartbeat, slamming it against the wall and ending the cockroaches life with a squelch. When you inspect the bottom of your shoe (you think about throwing it to the other side of the room, but you fear what could make a home in it before morning) and look back at Aaron he’s up on the bed, cowering in fear.

“I didn’t think there was anything you were scared of,” you tease. “Besides me.”

“If you mention this to anyone, I’m firing you.” But the threat doesn’t land, because he’s caved in on himself. 

“I would never,” you gasp in feigned surprise. But JJ and Emily have already asked him about that Halloween, and Spencer’s bummed Hotch has never dressed up (that he’s seen) so he knows that you might just do that. 

Your phone rings while Aaron’s pouting. It’s Garcia. You answer.

“Hello my beautiful angel,” you smile.

“The flowers are gorgeous,” Garcia says. “Who’re you sharing with?” you can hear the tease laced in her voice, and you know she already has the answer.

“A cockroach.” You turn up your nose at the base of your shoe and Aaron squirms.

“Uh huh, tell me more,” Garcia pushes. “Like where Hotch is.”

“Garcia, the cockroach was the size of a small horse.” You listen as Garcia squirms on the other side of the phone. “It crawled all over the sofa and I think it might have crawled over the bed.” Aaron literally launches himself off the bed, his one safe haven in the room destroyed. Garcia squeals and sounds like she might be retching. 

“Relax,” you tell Hotch more than you tell Garcia. “That last one was a joke. Although this place is pretty nasty.”

Garcia makes her excuses to hang up, saying that she hopes the case is closed soon. You return the sentiment, throwing an apology towards her that she has to look at the crime scene photos once more. When you hang up you throw your phone into your go bag.

“All jokes aside, if I’m not here in the morning it’s because I’m sleeping in the SUV,” you mumble. 

“Was the cockroach on the bed?” Aaron says quietly. When you shrug nonchalantly Aaron stalks across the room (admittedly, not that far) and grabs your shoulders. “Was. The. Cockroach. On. The. Bed?”

You grin at him, eyes blinking innocently. He looks so incredibly stressed and you have to reach up and squeeze his cheeks. He’s been stressed since Haley called, even more when you had all met in the conference room. The case had come straight to him, and you guess that he’s just decided to take it personally.

“The cockroach is dead, Aaron, it’s not going to hurt you.”

He shakes his head then bags the first shower. You’re pretty sure it’ll be more sanitary to shower in the rain so you decide you’re fine. Plus, you didn’t visit the crime scene today because you were running paperwork with JJ. Which, by the way Aaron, Spencer and Morgan looked when they came back, running paperwork was the better option.

There are no spare blankets in the room, so you pull out the spare blanket that you’d lined the bottom of your go bag with and throw it over the couch. It smells like wet socks and grotty sneakers, but it has to be better than the actual sofa cushion. You pull out the case file, shifting through the crime scene photos.

The victim is barely thirty. With decomposure the exact age was hard to pinpoint, the coroner had said there was far too much damage, so unless he makes an ID there’s no way to tell her exact age. Her red hair is halo’d around her and you know she’s been placed like that, but that’s not what bugs you. It’s that her wounds were clothed in moss, like she’s Poison Ivy from George Clooney’s Batman. (and yes, it looks that comical).

When you’d first arrived in town there had only been three bodies, found close to the highway. But you were barely there for two hours before a couple of kids found some more. They were barely older than Saskia, and rode all the way to the station on their push bikes because they didn’t have phones. Your heart had ached so bad for them, and their parents.

Still, the town didn’t want to cancel their festival but (by God) did they wanted the murders solved. And yesterday.

“I thought you said the case stayed in the car,” Aaron mumbles as he towel dries his hair. You sigh and snap the case shut. You had. And you’d made him swear on it, despite his mood that matches the weather.

“I can move it to the car,” you mumble. Then you look up at him and smile a little. You know he’s not in a bad mood for fun, it’s the whole day rolling and snowballing and threatening to smack him head on in the shape of Bureaucratic nonsense.

“How was Jack last night?” you ask, snapping the file shut and pushing it back into your bag. Aaron’s eyes go soft and sad and he goes back into the bathroom, folding his towel over the rack, and then he climbs into bed. 

“Anything stand out about the case?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows. You watch him closely as he avoids all topics relating to Jack. It’s fair. There’s some days you wish the team wouldn’t ask about Saskia because you’re barely holding it together.

“Aaron, it’s a dead body covered in moss. Everything stands out.” The silence between you practically screams he wants more. “Nothing more than what we’ve already put together. The unsub respects them, he thinks they’re reverent or something, because the moss gives them modesty. But everytime I look at it, it’s not sitting right.”

“Mmm?” he says, leaning over and the bed screams in protest.

“The body’s haven’t been dead for long enough to be decomposed like that. The ME said it a thousand times over.”

“So he’s keeping them alive? That’s not new, we’ve done that before.”

“Leaving them alive, but he still respects them?” you flash a look at him and he nods. “Anyway, toxicology report comes in tomorrow. Maybe there’s something in that that’ll make this all make sense.” 

“Maybe,” Aaron says quietly and the thunder rolls. You watch him shut his eyes and wonder if he’s still scared of thunderstorms. 

“Have you got your flashlight?” you say, holding out your hand.

“I’m not scared of the dark,” he squeaks back far too quickly.

“I am in this room,” you frown at him and click your fingers. “I want to turn the light off and I don’t want to step on anything.” Aaron groans, face red, and hands you the flash light. 

When you get back to the couch, the room bathed in darkness, you cocoon yourself in the blanket so no part of you is touching the couch. You switch off the flashlight and flick it back to Aaron. His smacks him in the head with the loudest noise you’ve heard in your life.

“Oh, shit,” you laugh because there’s no other option other than to cry. 

“‘S fine,” he slurs, but he’s trying not to laugh too. “I’ll blame the cockroach.”

“Blame the cockroach,” you repeat with a giggle. Which is the last thing you say to each other before you both fall asleep.

***

The room is dark. You know it’s a room, but that’s it. Something snakes around you, cold and unsettling. The Unsub darts out of the shadows, hand smacking against your throat. You fly backwards, hitting the ground and sinking into the soft soil. He starts pushing it over you, and you’re thrashing against him, but it’s not doing you any good.

“Mom?” Saskia asks and dread washes through you. The unsub stops and turns to your daughter, beckoning her forward. You try to plead, but your mouth is full of soil, and all you can do is watch as the Unsub runs a finger down your daughter’s face. And--

“Hey!”

You sit bolt upright, dripping in cold sweat. Your breath is coarse as you try to catch your breath, dispelling the heavy feeling like there’s heavy soil in your lungs. Aaron’s kneeling on the grotty floor beside you, one hand on your cheek, the other holding your wrist that’s raised like you were going to hit him. His cheek is red, even in the dim light.

“It’s just a bad dream,” he whispers. 

“Did I hit you?” you rasp. Aaron’s eyes flick over your face and they’re incredibly soft as he smiles weakly, not answering you.

He rubs your back as you breathe shakily, trying to calm yourself. After a while you realise that his thumb’s rubbing your cheek as he speaks lowly, but you haven’t been listening the whole time. 

You rub your forehead, then something in you breaks and a sob shakes through your body. Aaron sighs quietly and climbs onto the couch, gathering you into his arms. He cradles your head against his chest, ear pressed so you can hear his heartbeat.

“You’re okay,” he says quietly and you feel the vibrations of his voice. “And Saskia’s okay too.” He rocks you slightly, maneuvering your bodys until he has you curled in his lap. “Want to talk about it?” 

“No,” you whimper slightly.

“Ok,” he whispers. You stay like that for quite some time, until Aaron runs his hand clumsily through your hair and nestles his head on top of yours. “How often do they happen?” 

Thankfully, you have to think about the last time you had a nightmare. It was just after you had closed the Dollhouse case. The nightmare had been so intense that you hadn’t slept for a week, save for small naps. 

“Not for a while,” you whisper. 

“Y/n,” he murmurs into your hair. His fingers stroke the nape of your neck until you yawn, face turning into his chest. “You know you can take time if you need it,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say, poking slightly at his stomach. He chuckles, but not before he’s pressed his nose into your hair a little forcefully as if to say ‘I’m serious’.

“Can you sleep?” he asks. 

You shrug, savouring the last moment of closeness between you before you pull away. 

“How dangerous is the shower?” you say, a little jokingly. “How many diseases am I going to catch by the time I’m clean?”

“Nothing that’s killed me yet,” Aaron smiles as you stand from his lap. His cheek is far angrier than you thought it was before. 

“Shit, Aaron,” you lean down and cup his cheek, running your thumb across it. “Did I do that?”

He shrugs, but you can tell that you did. “It might have been the cockroach,” he teases but you’re lowering yourself back onto his lap, hand pressed against the palm sized mark.

“I think I have a freeze pack in my go bag,” you whisper. Aaron’s hands fall to your waist, resting there lightly as his eyes watch you softly.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because I have a terror of a daughter that’s too much like her dad,” you whisper like someone’s going to overhear the two of you. You lean off his lap with an actual protest from Aaron, grabbing your go bag with your finger tips and dragging it towards you. You fish around the pockets until you find the instant-freeze pack.

You snap it, hissing slightly as it freezes under your fingertips, then raise it to his cheek, holding it there.

“‘S cold,” he mumbles. 

“It’ll hurt more if you don’t.” You run the back of your nails against his cheek, over his lips lightly and his eyes flutter shut. You watch him softly, smiling as he nuzzles against your warm hand without thinking about it. 

“Does it feel better?” you whisper. 

“Your mom magic worked miracles,” he breathes. You lower the ice pack and smile at him, your eyes meeting once more.

“Yeah?” you chuckle quietly. “There’s one more thing that’ll make it better.” You brush your thumb against the less-angry skin.

“Yeah?” he responds, his voice hitching. 

You nod, and with your heart racing you lean down and press a light, slow kiss to his cheek. He melts beneath you, which isn’t entirely expected. He reaches up and cups your face as you pull away, pressing your noses together before he pulls your lips to his.

You cup the back of his head, shifting on his lap to get closer. He grins against you, running his tongue lightly along her bottom lip. You press your to his chest, pushing him back against the couch.You drop your face to his neck, hiding your face from him like he can see you in the dark. You suck at the soft skin, nuzzling into him. Aaron actually moans, head falling back against the back of the couch. You feel him tense, practically know the moment his eyes snap open.

“I think something just moved,” he squeaks. You lift your head, glancing up as if you can see the wall but it’s far too dark. You press your hand to the wall before realising it’s the way his hair’s against the couch.

“Aaron,” you giggle. “It’s your hair.” He walks his fingers up your side in a horrible imitation of an insect.

“I’m pretty sure it was there,” he whispers as he walks his fingers up to the back of your neck and pulls you back to him for another kiss.

“We should stay in shitty motels more often,” you whisper against his lips. He shakes his head and nuzzles into your neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin. 

“I’d prefer not to,” he says into your neck. “Do you still need a shower?” he asks as he kisses up your neck, nibbling softly at your earlobe. 

“Uh huh,” you say quietly.

“Shower in the morning,” he orders, running his hand down your back. 

He stands smoothly, lifting you with him then flops you both onto the bed, lips not leaving your skin. You giggle as he smacks his head on the wall, groaning slightly. 

“Do you need the ice pack again?” you tease and you can feel his glare through the darkness. He cups your face and kisses you softly before settling into the bed behind you, slinging his arm and leg over you.

“If I’m dead in the morning, sue the motel,” he says into the back of your neck. “And don’t let Dave take the team. He’ll ruin them.”

“Noted,” you whisper, lacing your fingers with his. “I’ll initiate Emily the moment I confirm you’re dead.” 

He kisses your shoulder and chuckles.

“Night.”

“Night.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~non-canon case alert my friendos. Have some fun~

When you wake Aaron’s pressed flush against you, head nestled against your neck, with a phone buzzing somewhere in the room. You flounder for it, finding it and answering.

“Speak,” you say through sleep. 

“My princess,” you hear Garcia say. “Why are you answering Hotch’s phone?”

You pause, dread filling you, but the stutter is all she needs to know. 

“Prelim profile,” you say weakly like it’ll explain it. “Do you want Hotch?” 

“That would be why I rang him,” Garcia tutts. 

“Give me a second and he shall be summoned.” You hold the phone to your chest, shaking him slightly. He grunts, pulling you closer and you make a silent prayer that Garcia believes the whole ‘prelim profile thing’. You twist in his arms and press a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re being summoned by Garcia,” you say into his skin. He lifts a hand, palm up. You place the phone in his hand, wiggling out of his grip as he makes the biggest, sookiest face.

“Hotch,” he says by way of greeting. You watch him frown and mouth ‘prelim profile?’. You shrug and fish around your go-bag for a change of clothes. You hadn’t zipped it up since you found the instant-freeze, and miraculously nothing’s made a home inside. You slide into the bathroom while Hotch is patting around for something to write on. 

You’re pretty sure there’s something growing in the corner of the shower, but there’s no way you can turn up for a whole day of work smelling like Aaron. Because, damn, you do. 

You catch a glance of yourself in the mirror as you enter the shower, brushing your fingers against the hickey on your neck. There’s literally no shirt you have in your go-bag that’ll hide that. Great.

You do your best to hide it when you get out of the shower, but no matter which way you do it, it’s going to be on full display. Aaron smirks as you come out, messing with your hair to try to hide it. He holds out an FBI windbreak he’s no doubt found in the back of the car. 

“Garcia thinks she’s found a link between the victims,” he says. You nod, thanking him for the windbreaker which--finally--covers the hickey. He notices a crease in his shirt and loosens his tie, undoing the top couple of buttons to smooth it out. 

Your breath hitches when you see what you gave him, cheeks burning.

“They look cute,” you say, motioning to them. “Whoever gave them to you must be pretty hot.”

Aaron smirks, looking at you through his thick lashes. “Yeah, she’s alright.”

“Your cheek looks better than it did last night,” you note as you pick up your go-bag and pull your blanket off the couch.

“I’ll still need to explain it to the team.”

“Explain it like you usually do,” you offer. When he cocks his head you just glare at him until his eyes widen with understanding.

“How often do I do that?”

“Aaron,” you say, shaking your head. “That’s your brand.”

“I don’t have a brand.”

You stand before him, body flush against his, and look up at him with a small smile and hook your fingers into his belt. He swallows nervously, and then you pluck the keys from his hand and skip out the room. It takes him a moment to follow you, and you're pretty sure it's so he's not smirking. 

***

"How did everyone sleep?" Prentiss asks as she comes in, somewhat disheveled. You nod as an answer, taking a sip of your coffee that's--Aaron's tea.

You look up, face twisted in disgust because tea is far from coffee, to notice in horror that he's taken a swig of his (your) drink. He turns away from Morgan as he does, pinching the bridge of his nose and glances at you. 

"Was Hotch this bad last night?" JJ asks, sliding in next to you. 

"I feel like he's way better than yesterday," Prentiss says. 

The phone rings, you instinctively jam your pen into the loudspeaker button and drop against the table. 

"Hey Garcia." 

"Hello, my sweet happiness bringer. I have some good and bad news." 

"Good news first, baby girl," Morgan says, joining the table.

"I have confirmed that there is a link between those poor girls, and it's a fertility clinic. Bad news, I don't exactly think it was… legal." 

"Continue," Morgan presses. 

Aaron taps your back, pointing to the door as the ME steps in, nervously looking around. You nod, flashing him a smile of thanks, and slip away from the group.

"Doctor Xander," you smile as you approach. He doesn't look any less nervous. 

"The report," he says, teeth clicking together.

"Thanks. First time on a big case?" You ask as you flick through the file. Xander nods, tongue flashing over his lips. "Do you want me to sign for transfer?" You ask, cause damn he's nervous and he doesn't need to be explaining missing paperwork.

You brace the clipboard against your arm and fill in everything, signing it. 

"Thanks Agent… Y/l/n," Xander nods as he leaves. 

Aaron's got his hand braced against his forehead, looking a little pale. He's backed away from the team, leaning against the wall. You catch Dave's glance and nod, approaching Aaron.

"Aaron?" You whisper, pressing a hand to his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he says but it's so obvious he's not. "Headache." You raise a hand to his temple, pressing lightly. His eyes flutter shut for a split second, leaning into it, then his eyes snap open and he straightens up.

"I've got painkillers in my bag," you say, holding a hand out for the keys.

"I'm fine."

"Aaron, you look like you're going to pass out." 

He squints at you, but the movement seems to cause pain to coarse through him. He reluctantly hands over the keys, and you grab your coffee on the way out. 

"Hey y/n," Spencer says in the station's antechamber. He's looking at the community board notices, fingers tracing over the sheets. "Did you get a chance to look at that ME report?" 

You shake your head, handing it to him and taking a gulp of your coffee.

"You see anything?" You ask.

"Not quite. Garcia mentioned you and Hotch had a prelim profile, I'd love to go through it when… where are you going?" 

"Car. Painkillers," you say as you shake the keys. "Hotch looks like he's going to pass out." 

Spencer looks into the station with a small 'huh' and you pat his shoulder.

"I'll springboard theories with you in a second, ok?" You say. You don't specifically tell him you don't have a profile as mapped out as you told Garcia but… he gets it. That furrow in his brow tells you everything you need to know. 

You’re stepping into the carpark when you hear Spencer call after you. You twist on your heel, returning to him.

“The ME was weird, right?” he asks. You purse your lips and nod a little.

“Yeah, he was just nervous.”

“He was fine outside,” Spencer says quietly. 

“It happens sometimes. I’ll be right back, okay?” You study Spencer’s face as he pouts a little then go back out to the carpark. You glance back at Spencer as you open the boot, where he’s tapping his fingers against his chin. You wonder what he does in his spare time, whether his brain is always working that sporadically, and if he even sleeps at night. 

The painkillers are down the bottom of your bag, buried beneath everything that you’ve tried to fit back in. Maybe there was something to the suing-the-motel thing because you’ve got the beginning of a pounding headache too. You dry swallow a pair of painkillers, pocket the rest and slam the boot shut.

“Agent?” someone asks behind you. You fight hard not to groan as you turn to them.

A hand grabs you, and your reactions are far too slow. You know where your hand should be, and yet it’s still at your side. Doctor Xander’s in front of you, which means he’s not behind you, a cocky smile on his face. Two of them. 

“Sleep well,” Xander smirks. Your hand drops to your pocket, tipping out a handful of painkillers into your hand. It takes all your effort to mash them against the guy behind you’s mouth, but it works. You hear him grunt, then spit the tablets out onto the carpark gravel. 

Then you’re unconscious.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! This chapter gets *intense* (and not in a good way) !  
> tw/ for: mentions of drug use / dead bodies / being buried alive.  
> ~~ i promise to add some [more] fluff next chapter to make up for it ~~

Rossi looks like he knows something, and Aaron knows it. He watches Dave as he pads around the room, then stands beside him.

“How did you sleep last night?” Dave asks.

“Fine,” Aaron grumbles. He presses his hand to his temple as it throbs once more. 

“Your neck says better than fine.” 

Aaron’s eyes flash in fear, his hand flying to cover what was… still covered. He glares at Dave, who’s smirking. Of course. Because that man knows everything that’s ever happened. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Dave says lowly. “But I have more loyalty to y/n and her family than I will ever have to you. You do this for the wrong reason, I’ll have your job.” 

Hotch sets his jaw, side eyeing Dave because moving his head hurts too much. 

“It’s the medical examiner,” Reid says as he runs into the room, “and the guy from the coffee shop. They’re our unsubs.” He throws the file onto the table, ordering Garcia to find a car, giving her the number plate.

“Reid?” Morgan says as everyone joins the table.

“They took y/l/n.”

Hotch feels the dread pool in his stomach. It’s far worse than his headache. 

***

The floor is cold beneath your back. Your badge and gun are gone, as are your shoes, and it smells incredibly damp. So damp. Too damp. You cough, hand flying to your forehead as it throbs.

“The drugs are going to do a number on you for a while,” the voice is low, soft, caring. Familiar. You inch your eyes open, met by a low tutting. “Stay here, don’t wake up.”

“Wake up?” you whisper. 

“Yeah. Don’t do it, my little Bird.” The pet name washes over you, eyes stinging with tears. 

“Felix,” you whimper. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Tell me about Saskia.”

You squeeze your hand over your forehead and sniff. “She’s… she’s…” but there’s a lump in your throat and you’re suddenly aware that you’re literally talking to a hallucination. 

“What’s her favourite color?”

“Blue. Dark blue,” you rasp and your voice bounces back to you. “And she loves dogs. And hippos. And she wants to join the debate team because her best friend is on the debate team.”

Felix chuckles. “Just like her mom.” 

“Just like me,” you sigh. Because it’s true. A gate creaks, footsteps coming up beside you. Your eyes rip open but he’s not there, there’s no Felix, there’s just the barista from the coffee shop that JJ complained about when you first arrived in town. 

He hauls you up by your armpits, and your limbs are too heavy to fight back. You head rolls as you try to take in your surroundings, but it’s just what feels like miles and miles of packed dirt walls. You stumble when he pushes you to your feet, pushing you into a small, caged room. 

Someone reaches out to you, hands dirty, yellow nail polish chipped. You recognise her from the potential missing person’s board. Rosalie Parker.

“Rosalie?” you rasp, and the woman nods, her eyes wide. “I’m Agent y/l/n, I’m from the FBI.”

“You still work for the FBI?” Felix asks and your head swivels around, but he’s not there. 

“We’ll get out of here,” you reassure Rosalie. She nods, her lip quivers. In that moment she reminds you of JJ, so full of life and yet scared shitless. You pull yourself up to a sitting position and place your hand on her shoulder.

“Is there anybody else in here?” you ask her. “Have you seen anyone else?”

“There’s just us,” Rosalie whimpers. “Stella used--I haven’t seen her in a long time.” Stella… the woman that the kids found. You nod slowly, push her hair behind her ear (because there’s nothing else calming to do). 

It feels like hours that you both sit in the cold room, waiting, jumping at every noise. 

When Xander arrives, he’s wringing his hands. He rattles the bars to the cage, a sadistic grin spreading across his face. 

“I think you’ll both look very pretty in my garden,” he whispers. 

You scream as he grabs your hair, dragging you away from Rosalie. You scream, and you scream, and you scream more than you’ve ever screamed before. You scream like it’s going to stop him. 

“Stay with me,” Felix whispers as Xander throws you to the floor. Rosalie lands beside you, coughing into the… dirt? That is dirt. It smells like your front garden. And then--

You’ve suddenly got all your movement in your limbs as you launch yourself away from the body staring up at you. You grab Rosalie, pulling her with you. Xander just smiles like there’s nothing wrong. 

“Would you like to join them?” Xander whispers and he drops to his knees, hooking his fingers under your chin.

“Not really,” you try to sound strong, but it comes out as a whimper. 

He hauls you to your feet by your hair, pushing you into a shallow grave. You splutter as he pushes dirt on top of you, the soil bearing down on your chest. 

“Stay with me,” Felix whispers again. You gulp at the air, claw at the dirt he keeps pouring on you. “Tell me about Saskia.”

Not now, you think back. All the same, you list things about Saskia as you fight against the dirt, grounding yourself from the panic that keeps rising and rising and rising.

“They’re here, Little Bird. They’re here.” 

You don’t need to be told who ‘they’ are. You push at the dirt with new found energy, lashing out at Xander when you get your hands free. Rosalie’s crying as she watches you, you desperately want to tell her to do something. But doing ‘something’ and doing ‘something useful’ are two vastly different things.

Xander bears his teeth and you grab his ankle, pulling his foot out from under him. 

“Move, move, move,” you yell to Rosalie as you drag yourself out of the shallow grave, hand brushing against something cold and rubbery that you don’t want to think about. Rosalie grabs your arm, pulling you towards her fast. 

“Clear,” you hear down the hallway. You wrap an arm around Rosalie’s waist, running for the hallway. Xander’s too quick, grabbing the back of your shirt and hauling you back into the shallow grave, Rosalie with you.

“AARON!” you scream as Xander lifts his shovel, aiming it at Rosalie. It’s instinct that has you jumping over her, taking the flat of the shovel to your back. He shoves the shovel between you both, flipping you onto your back, then throws soil onto both of you.

You take a mouthful of dirt and you’re fighting to get any sort of air at all. 

“Put the weapon down!” Morgan. You’ve never been more grateful to hear a voice in your life. The dirt stops as Xander looks at Morgan curiously. Rosalie heaves for breath beside you.

You sit up, coughing up more soil than you’d thought was possible. Morgan’s still yelling at him. And Xander’s just staring at him. His lifts his shovel like a bat and you’re over it. You’re over having soil on you. On shaky legs you half stand, reach up, grab the shovel and rip it from his grip. Then you drop back into the grave.

Morgan’s on him in a second, pinning him to the ground. 

“Derek,” you rasp and spit up soil. “Next time, shoot the bastard.” He smirks at you, but you can smell the stress on him. 

You’re practically body slammed by Aaron. He pulls you into his arms, cradling the back of your head, and you have to tap his arm to remind him that you need to breathe. He pulls away, wiping the dirt from your face, shoulders. His face is laced with worry as he cups your face, running his thumbs over the tear streaks that have cascaded down your cheeks.

“I’m okay,” you rasp out, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. 

“Hotch,” Reid calls. 

There’s a short moment of fear that washes over you, your hand fisting against his bullet proof vest. You catch Emily’s look, the worry on her face, and know that it’s over. She has this look like she’s asking for permission to interrupt. You nod.

“Hotch,” Prentiss says quietly as she presses her hand to his shoulder. You nod at him, giving him permission to leave, then grab Prentiss’ arm as she helps you to your feet, rubbing circles on your back. JJ’s got Rosalie, guiding her to wherever ‘out’ was.

“Are you okay?” Prentiss says lowly. You nod slowly, struggling to catch your breath. 

“I’m never going to garden again,” you joke but Emily doesn’t smile. She brushes some dirt out of your hair and nods.

“This is a lot,” Morgan says. Lights flicker on and you’re sure that you’re in a warehouse, the floor lined with rows and rows of dead bodies in shallow graves, growing various garden plants. You turn your back to it, only to turn to more. Far more than what you’d thought. 

You think you might throw up.

“Which way’s out?” you ask. Emily’s face is trained on the body’s, face frozen in shock. 

“Emily,” you breathe, ears roaring. You’re pretty sure you can feel the blood leaving your face. You grab at Emily’s elbow, squeezing although you’re not sure it was very tight at all. 

“Huh?” she says, turning to you. Her eyes flicker over you and then she wraps an arm around you and guides you through the tunnels. You’re genuinely sweating by the time she gets you outside.

You don’t even make it to the paramedics, or to JJ, before you drop to your knees on the grass, putting your head in your hands. Emily sighs as she squats beside you, hand on your back. 

“You’re out,” she says lowly. “You’re safe.”

The night air is cold against your skin, and you’re grateful for it. You can’t tell if you want to throw up or cry, so you just kneel there, listening to Emily repeat herself over and over again. JJ comes over, dropping a pack of makeup wipes in front of you. 

“It’s the best I could do,” she says apologetically. 

You nod mechanically as you peel one out of the packet and wipe it over your face. Once you’re somewhat clean, you stand and ball the makeup wipes in your hands.

“I owe you a packet,” you smile at JJ as she stands. Emily’s hand hovers by you but doesn’t touch you. “I don’t have my badge. Or my gun.”

“Reid found them inside, they’re going into evidence. Local PD will mail it back when it’s processed,” Emily says. You nod in response. 

“Hey Kid,” Rossi says as he walks up to you. Emily and JJ break from you, joining the boys as they come out of the house.

“Hey,” you say weakly. He embraces you, squeezing your shoulders. “Don’t hug me for too long, I might cry.”

Dave nods, letting go of you. “You scared a lot of people today.”

“Scared myself too,” you say quietly. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You study him, debating whether you’d tell him or not. 

“I th… I thought I heard Felix. But it’s nothing.” You shake your head and force a smile onto your face. “It’s nothing.”

His mouth quivers, and you know he’s trying desperately not to pull you into another hug. Then he turns, pointing to Hotch who’s standing like a statue as he talks to the town’s sheriff. Well ‘talks’... he’s just staring at him while Spencer and Morgan fill in the gaps.

“No one’s going to say anything if you make sure you’re both okay,” he says. You stutter to correct him, but he’s got this look on his face and you know that he knows. So instead you press a hand to his shoulder in a silent thank-you.

You approach them, arms wrapped around your middle, and lean up against Hotch as he stares. Reid’s eyes light up as he sees you, his smile looking like he’s just had a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“You’re okay!” he laughs, clapping your shoulder.

“Boy genius got the licence plate,” Morgan smiles. “But what was up with all those painkillers, I feel like your time could’ve been used better.” He pushes your shoulder playfully. 

Spencer cocks his head. “For DNA analysis, Morgan, I told you earlier,” and he launches into a long explanation that you’ve got no doubt Morgan’s heard before because he’s just nodding. 

You take Aaron’s hand. He hesitates, then squeezes it. 

“Please don’t do that again,” Aaron whispers, tugging you closer. You wrap an arm around his waist, resting your head on his chest. 

“It’s not like I planned it,” you whisper back, but you let go of his hand and wrap yourself around him. He sighs, dropping his face into your neck and wraps his arms around you. 

You stay like that for a while, Aaron breathing into your neck and holding you as tight as he can. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” his mumbles into your neck. He sounds like he wants to say something else. You squeeze him tight in response.

***

JJ places a full house down on the table between her and Prentiss as she glances over to you and Hotch. Hotch had insisted on leaving as soon as possible, pushing it even harder when Rossi offered that the team should stay another night. JJ noted that even you had looked horrified at the idea.

The first couple of minutes on the jet had been… awkward, to say the least. No one was willing to discuss the case, and small talk had been out of the question. Then they’d all broken into groups. Morgan and Spencer had fallen asleep on the long seat, Rossi flicking through the case files, Prentiss and JJ playing cards, and you and Hotch had sat side by side talking quietly.

One minute JJ had been concentrating on her card game, and then next she’d looked up to see you nestled against Hotch’s chest, his arms wrapped around you. She wasn’t even sure it was weird.

“Do you think they’re together?” she asks Prentiss, motioning to the two of you.

Prentiss hums as she studies the sight.

“I don’t know. They were pretty close when she first came. I want to say that’s the baseline but,” she reorganises her hand. “We both saw what they were like at her place. They’ve been friends forever, it could just be that.”

“But then,” JJ points and the two of them watch as Hotch shuffles in his seat, his head falling on top of yours. 

“Start a betting pool when we’re back?” Prentiss offers. JJ nods and pulls herself away, turning back to the game. 

***

When you land Garcia is waiting impatiently for you. She bypasses the team, wrapping you in her arms the moment she gets to you. 

“What do you need?” she asks. 

“Four showers, eighteen drinks, and a Drew Barrymore marathon,” you laugh weakly. 

“I can help you with two of those things.” She hooks her arm in yours and you’ve never been more grateful for your new family. She doesn’t stop talking about the habits of baby animals the entire way to her car, and you’re grateful for it. 

As you’re getting into Garcia’s car you notice Aaron, pacing nervously beside his own as though he’s waiting for both of you to leave. Because he probably is.

“Hey, Garcia? I’ll catch up in a second. Don’t leave without me.” She nods, humming, and watches as you approach Aaron. He stops, offering a tiny smile. 

“You okay?” you ask, taking his hands in yours. 

“I just want to make sure you get home,” he confesses. 

“I’ll text you when I’m home,” you whisper, raising onto your tiptoes. He smirks, pressing his nose to yours. 

“Call me if you need anything,” he whispers back, brushing his lips against yours. You hum in answer, kissing him softly. When you pull away his eyes are dark, needing, and you can’t help but go back for seconds. 

“Night Aaron,” you smile into him.

“Night y/n,” he smiles back into you.

When you climb into Garcia’s car you know that she knows. She has this surprised look on her face that practically begs for the gossip. You slide down in the seat, knowing that your face is red. 

“Drive, Garcia,” you order.

“Yes ma’am,” she laughs. 

In that moment, you feel the lightest that you ever have in your life. Especially when Garcia reaches over and takes your hand, squeezing it. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Garcia.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! beginning is... nsfw... !!  
> ~lil chapter based around 3x16 (elephant's memory) because ever since I've watched that episode i've wanted to write this~

Saskia has gone to her friend's house in DC for a couple of days. Her friend's dad had a case near Norfolk and it was only logical that he pick her up on the way home because Em and Saskia were practically begging to see each other. 

Aaron and you had taken the opportunity immediately. No case and no kids was… prime time for hanging out uninterrupted. The TV's on in the background as Aaron lies across your stomach, fingers stroking your side. 

He looks up at you with big eyes as you run your fingers through his hair, fingernails scraping over his scalp. He looks so soft and you know your face has melted into adoration. 

"Okay?" he whispers, nuzzling into your chest as he looks up at you. You nod, biting your lip. He presses a kiss to your sternum through your shirt. You tug lightly at his hair. He makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and you store the fact away for later. 

His hands slip under your shirt, fingers tracing circles over your stomach. He drags his face up to yours, peppering kisses over your body. He pauses at your mouth, smirking as your hands curl against his sweater. You squint at him, raising your hand to the back of his head and pulling him down to you.

He resists for a moment, doing nothing but smiling against you until you nip at his bottom lip and say "Aaron" in your best, most pleading voice. He caves at that, kissing you like you're his life source. You moan into his mouth as a hand cups your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

"Mmm?" He responds as he sucks at the hollow in your neck. He nuzzles at your jaw as he looks up at you. You shake your head and he smirks, pushing up your shirt and trailing messy, open mouthed kisses down your body. 

He stops at your waist band, fingers brushing against your hips before hooking his fingers under. You wiggle out of your shirt, tossing it to the floor, reaching down to Aaron and running your hand through his hair.

"Can I?" he whispers as he rests his chin on your stomach, pupils blown. You study him for a moment, how soft he looks, wishing you could see him like this always. Then he makes this tiny, whiny noise, and you can’t help but giggle.

Your “yes” barely comes out as a breath, earning you the smuggest grin from Aaron. He kisses your stomach and you can’t help the rush of excitement that flows through you.

There are a million better places to have your first time with him. Your bed, being one of them. But then again, he looks so content where he is, peppering kisses over your hips as he pulls down your pants, hands wandering over the skin that’s now exposed. He kisses the inside of your thigh, his breath grazing over your core as he moves to your opposite thigh. 

“Aaron,” you breathe and the shit chuckles, nuzzling his cheek into your thigh, looking up at you with those massive brown eyes. You glare at him as his hand strokes your inner thigh, fingers brushing against you through your underwear. 

“Something wrong?” he teases and you nudge his cheek with your thigh. 

“Something’ll be wrong in a se--” but he kisses you through the fabric and all your words disappear. Your hands find his hair, fingers trailing across his scalp. You feel him grinning against you as he pulls your underwear off, placing a soft, open mouthed kiss to your clit. The sound that escaped you is beyond ungodly.

He chuckles against you, the vibrations have your eyes fluttering shut, your hands going both limp and taught in his hair. 

Which is when your phone rings. And you wake, in your bed, alone, your heart pounding and far too worked up to think straight. You grab your phone, squinting at the ID, but it’s too late to be anything but work.

“Speak,” you say, voice thick with sleep.

“We have a case.” Aaron. You groan as you roll over, looking at the time. 10pm.

“When do you need us?” you sit up, swallowing a gasp as you realise you’re far more sensitive than you had anticipated. You hear Aaron pause on the other side of the phone.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low.

“Fine. When do you need me?”

For a second, you’re sure you hear his breath hitch. But you’re also waking up from a freaking wet dream as a grown adult, so it could have been anything.

“As soon as possible,” he tells you. 

You sigh. ‘As soon as possible’ was never a request. 

“See you in twenty.”

***

You pull into the carpark at the same time as Emily and JJ. They both take you in, Emily sipping from her travel mug. 

“You look like you’ve been dragged away from a good time,” Emily teases. She reaches over and fixes your shirt collar for you. 

“If a good time means more sleep, yeah,” but you’re thinking about Aaron and can already feel the heat creeping into your face. 

In the conference room you pour yourself a cup of coffee, downing it in one go. 

“Good night?” Aaron whispers as he leans over you, grabbing a cup. 

“I was sleeping, so absolutely brilliant.”

“Yeah?” he grins this shit eating grin and you can’t stop thinking about the same smile as he leant against your thigh.

“Uh huh,” you respond and duck under his arm, taking your seat at the table. Dave watches you carefully as you flick through the case file, drawing your knees up to your chest. Aaron sits beside you, straight as a ruler, his hands clasped in front of him, and for a moment his jaw goes taught. 

You reach your leg out, nudging him with your foot until he glances at you and you poke your tongue out at him, earning a smirk in response. You hold your empty coffee cup out to him and he cocks his head at you, smirks, takes it from you and goes back to the coffee machine. 

Spencer comes in late and flustered, just as Aaron hands you back his coffee. He eyes Spencer off as Spence mutters a thousand apologies as he slides into his chair. 

“I hope she was worth it,” Rossi baits.

“I hope it was a she,” Morgan adds.

“Boys,” you tack onto the end warningly, watching how Spencer looks between them guiltily. 

“I was at the movies.”

“Really, why don’t you tell us what it was about?” Rossi baits again and you glare at him. 

“I-I had to leave early so I can’t really-” 

You put your cup on the table a little too loud, making the table jump. Aaron squeezes your thigh as he sits. 

“I know it’s late, I know we’re tired, but we’ve got two dead cops.” He lets go of your thigh and gives you a small nod. You nod back to him, then turn to the table. It’s going to be a long case.

***

Reid's been on edge since you got the case. Acting erratically, snapping at the local law enforcement, and even blaming the school for the kid turning out the way he did. Your heart had broken a little when he'd turned to Aaron and said "being the smartest kid in the room is like being the only kid in the room". Because, well, he's not wrong. 

But it’s a wonder that Aaron’s surprised at the events of the day. As you all hold your guns up, trying to get a shot at the shooter, with Spencer trying to talk him down. Blocking your shot. And Aaron looks stressed like he didn’t see it coming. 

His hand lingers on Spencer’s arm when you’ve got the guy, and you catch him turning around when the team’s not watching. 

“You good?” you ask as you come up beside him, placing a hand on his elbow. He surveys the machine gun in his hand, looks at you, and shakes his head. 

“He could have been shot.”

“He wasn’t,” you offer weakly. You glance back at the team to check that they’re not there. Satisfied as you see Rossi entering the building, the rest of the team before him, you raise your hand to the back of Aaron’s head and scratch at his hair lightly. “Talk to him when we’re on the jet, yeah? I think he just needs someone to tell him everything’s okay.”

“He--” Aaron breathes as he runs a hand across his forehead, pulling the skin taught. “I should have seen it.”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing. “Aaron, look at me.” To his credit, he does. “Learn for next time. But right now, we deal with what we have, which is one agent who’s still a kid at heart who thinks he’s disappointed his dad.” You kiss his cheek lightly, wary that the Sheriff’s come back out of the station.

“What are you going to do?” he asks as you turn on your heel, walking towards the station.

“I’m giving him a hug,” you say, twirling to smile at him. Aaron shakes his head and smirks. 

The moment you get Spencer alone you pull him into your arms. Far faster than you would’ve liked, but that was only to hide the terror that fills your eyes as the day’s events hit you full force. 

“Next time you do something like that, tell me first,” you tell him as Spencer tentatively wraps his arms around you. 

“You would have tried to stop me,” Spencer says plainly. You give his shoulders a squeeze. “I didn’t want another kid to die.”

“Tell me next time,” you reiterate and pull away. He has a shocked look on his face and you know he’s realised that you would have done the same thing as him a thousand times over. 

“Are the team mad?” he asks as he picks at the skin by his nails. You place a hand over his and shake your head.

“Scared, upset, worried, but never mad.” 

Spencer smiles at you weakly. You return the same smile. 

***

You’re texting Tobias back, thanking him for holding on Saskia that little bit longer (she’s ecstatic that she had spent an extra night at Emily’s in DC), and thanking him once more for dropping her with Garcia at the airport, when Aaron drops into the chair next to you. His hands are shaking after talking to Spencer, and he’s trying to keep it at bay.

“Look at you go,” you smile at him, voice low because everyone’s asleep besides Spencer and the two of you. Aaron huffs, slinking down in his seat.

“I feel like shit,” he mumbles. 

You pinch his cheek playfully, then press a kiss on the red skin. He blushes, turning his face to you with those pretty brown eyes. 

“I’m proud of you, Aaron Hotchner,” you whisper, leaning over the armrest and kissing him softly. He’s almost surprised at first, until his hand cups your cheek and amps up the kiss until you think the only way to get closer to him is to crawl intro his lap. Which you don’t do, because you’re on the jet, and the team are right there.

When you part he presses his forehead to yours and strokes your cheek. He presses a kiss to your nose before settling back into the seat. 

“Were you asleep when I called you?” he teases, taking your hand in his.

“I was.” You stroke the back of his hand, tracing circles over his knuckles. “I was having a pretty good dream, too.”

“Yeah? What was it about?”

You raise his hand to your mouth, pressing a lazy open-mouthed kisses to his knuckles. “You,” you whisper. He tenses, body turning in curiosity. “It’s too bad Saskia’s waiting for me to take her home, or I might have shown you.”

You hear his breath catch in his throat, watch as he swallows, his adams apple bobbing, and smile to yourself. It’s nice to see him like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~next bit is the end of s3/start s4 with KATE get ready for ANGST.~  
> Also, bless everyone who's read/reading/& continues to read. I love you all so, so, so, so much. <3 <3  
> p.s. yeah, mentions of NCIS is just that Emily Fornell is Saskia's friend because they'd be around the same age and I love Emily.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ starts at 3x20 ~

“You owe me,” Aiden, your ex-fiance, says over the phone. 

You’re at the coffee machine, thinking about his new proposal. He’s in Quantico for a couple of days, having to attend a big, fancy dinner and he needs some sort of arm candy. Okay, he didn’t say that, but it was strongly implied. 

“I don’t owe you anything,” you sing-song back, filling your mug. “I left the big kid’s playground so I wouldn’t have to go to these galas. Plus, I haven’t got a thing to wear.”

“I can fix that,” Aiden offers. You shake your head, filling your mug. Emily comes up beside you, pushing her mug in front of you.

“More please, mommy,” she says, batting her eyelashes at you dramatically. You groan at her, filling her mug.

“Babe, if I get you a dress, will you pretty please make this night bearable, pretty please, with six cherries on top?” Aiden says in a ridiculously whiny voice.

“Saying pretty please twice does not make me want to do it anymore.”

‘Saskia?’ Emily mouths. You shake your head and roll your eyes as if to say ‘I wish’. She pulls a ‘I need gossip’ face back and you wave her off.

“How about the cherries?” Aiden drawls. 

“Don’t call me babe,” you hiss. You’re pretty sure Emily missed it but you can’t be sure. “And no. They don’t fill me with a longing to hang off your arm surrounded by penguins.”

“Quack,” Aiden responds. “I’ll find you a dress.” A long pause before he adds, “babe.” and hangs up. 

It’s not like you and Aiden ended badly (okay, you did a little), but that doesn’t mean you want him back in your life. He’s impulsive and sly and thinks about himself first and foremost. You had worked together on the Dollhouse case, until he’d decided to take a Vegas weekend before you’d closed the case. He’d dropped information about the case to some random woman he’d met, who’d shared it around, and soon the case had been over (with 2 more casualties than you would have liked) and the wedding called off. 

The wedding you had never mentioned to Hayley and Aaron. An exciting conversation to have for sure. 

Strauss finds you after lunch, tapping your pen against your desk. You’d tried to talk to Aaron twice but he’s buried in paperwork and the most conversation you’ve gotten out of him is “mhmm” and “that’s nice” (the second one was after you’d said your car had broken down and you arrived to work on a unicycle, so you were sure he wasn’t listening at that point). So, really, going or not going to the gala was coming down to your own choice.

“Agent,” Strauss says as she makes herself far too comfortable up against your desk. “I hear you are thinking about attending the gala.” 

“You were incorrectly informed, I assure you,” you finish with a smile. 

“I want you to go.”

“What?” you choke. If the team weren’t listening before, they sure as hell were listening now. 

“I want you to go, there are people we would benefit from having connections with, and I believe you and… Detective Harden” (she looks at her hand for this and you want to scream) “will be able to make them far faster than anyone else.”

There’s so much you want to say, or yell. Mainly yell. If she wasn’t the big boss you’d chuck a tantrum so monumental someone would think Saskia possessed you. But before you can argue with her someone places a dress in a plastic bag before you.

“What’s this?” you ask, knowing full well. The man shrugs, placing down a shoe box and… bag of cherries? Fuck Aiden. 

“Sign,” the delivery man says, flicking the clipboard to you. You grab a pen and sign it far too violently. 

“Did Detective Harden call you?” you grumble, not quite spitting his name but you’re close to it. Strauss shakes her head, stands and strides from the room. 

“Are those cherries?” Morgan asks as he looms over your desk. You pick them up, and slam them (maybe too forcefully) into his stomach.

“Knock yourself out.”

***

You can’t not admit that the dress is gorgeous. It’s an ankle length wrap, a pink that looks more like a white put in a colors wash. The clusters of flowers and bluebirds on it… you liked those. They looked nice. There was a reason you almost married him.

Emily whistles as you come back into the bullpen, your cheeks heating. 

“Look at you, all dolled up. He must be a very lucky man.”

“Not lucky,” you respond as you glance up at her as you fish through your top drawer. You pull out a small embroidered box. You pop it open, pulling out a pair of white dangling earrings, white crescent moons with a red rose in the C, a blue butterfly landing on them. 

“Those are gorgeous,” Emily smiles. 

You completely forget to respond to her as you push them in, eyes stuck on your wedding and engagement rings that are just. Sitting there. (Felix’s ones, of course. Aiden’s engagement ring was probably still somewhere in the grass outside the DC FBI office). You pick up your engagement ring, twirling it in your fingers. You haven’t had a reason to wear it in, what, seven years? But if any night was the right night to have people assume you’re married it’s when you have to go to a cursed gala. 

“You were married?” Emily asks as you slip them on. She cocks her head and you watch as it dawns on her that she already knew. 

“Yeah, Em,” you smile. “And for tonight, I am, because it stops the bastards from hitting on me.”

“You look great.”

“Thanks. You heading home?”

“Uh huh.”

“Have a good night.”

“You too,” she smiles and squeezes your shoulder before getting her stuff and leaving.

You debate going into Aaron’s office. He’s still hunched over his paperwork, one hand in his hair. He looks incredibly stressed. But then you think about leaving without telling him and decide being told “that’s nice” is better than nothing.

“Knock, knock,” you say lowly as you push the door open. 

“Mm?” he says, not looking up. 

“Put your paperwork away, go home.” He hums in response. You cross the room, twirling the hair at the nape of his neck. “Go home.”

“‘M almost done,” he says, dragging another file towards him. He pauses mid-movement, sitting back as he notices your dress. “Where’re you going?”

“Strauss wants me to go to a gala with Detective Harden. Says we can make some good connections.” 

Aaron nods, leaning into your hand. “You look nice.” 

“Thanks.” You lift your hand and trace a thumb over his eyebrow, revelling in the small, quiet moment between you. It's broken the moment he notices your rings, taking your hands in his.

He runs his fingers over them and you're sure he wants to say something else as he says: "nervous?"

You shake your head but don't meet his eye because, honestly, yes. He eyes off the camera in the corner of his office before kissing your fingers lightly.

"You're going to do great," he smiles. 

"I would much rather be at home doing anything else," you groan. "Like scrubbing a toilet with my toothbrush."

"Gross," he chuckles. "Do you want me to drop by and pick you up when I'm done?" 

"Would I love you forever and ever? Yes."

His eyes flicker up to you and, honestly, you're holding your breath and refusing to actually look at him. He strokes his hand against yours and you nod, kissing his forehead, then wiping your lipstick away. Aaron smirks. 

"Leave before midnight, yeah?" You ask as you step away. 

He nods, eyes falling on your earrings. "Sean and I bought you those for your 21st." 

"I'm bringing all my favourite boys with me," you smile as you leave. He chuckles quietly as you pull the door closed. 

***

You’re about to call Aiden, when JJ catches your attention. Well, she’s perched on the edge of her desk and looks like she’s about to ask you something, then she notices your dress and snaps her mouth shut. You shove your phone in your clutch and back up, slinking into JJ’s office.

“You’re not going home?” you ask. JJ shrugs. “Something up?”

“I can ask later. You’ve got somewhere to be.” She turns and busies herself with reorganising files on her desk, little movements that you knew all too well. You pull the door shut and lean against it, cocking your head at JJ.

“What’s up.” It’s not a question, because if you let it be a question then she’ll say it’s nothing. You know the drill all too well.

“I don’t want you to be late,” JJ gives you this smile that you, also, know too well. 

“JJ, I will be late for anything (except my daughter’s birthday) for you.” You watch as JJ turns in curiosity. “And it’s not Saskia’s birthday, so I will be late. What’s up?” 

She looks you up and down and you make sure to jam the hand with your rings between you and the door. Then she sits on the edge of her desk and breathes one low, long, sigh.

“D-don’t tell anyone, not yet, I’m not. I’m not ready to tell them.”

Your mind whirls with a thousand things that can be wrong. She’s sick, she’s leaving, she’s… REALLY sick. 

“I read all of the files for the White Lily case,” JJ admits. Okay, so maybe not sick. Dedicated, and snooping into your past, sure. (Okay, snooping is a little paranoid). “You worked the whole thing, no breaks.” You cock your head, taking her in. It’s like the gears are turning, sliding everything into place. Then it’s there. Penny in the air. “How did you do it?”

Penny drops.

“You’re pregnant,” you say simply, cocking your head. JJ’s cheeks go red. “JJ, congrats!” You smile as you pull her in for a hug.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she practically begs into the hug. 

“JJ, trust me, this is a you thing to break,” you rub her back and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re thinking of working the whole way through?” You try to keep the frown from your face as you pull away, but you can’t. 

“Yeah,” she nods. “I’m looking for a replacement when I’m on maternity leave, but…”

“Don’t work yourself into the ground, JJ. You’ll feel fine now, but trust me, there are some days you’ll not want to be anywhere.” You pause, making sure she’s looking at you. “I mean anywhere, JJ. Not in bed, not at work, not out on a walk, not in the bath, you’ll just want to not exist.”

JJ pulls a face at you but you know she’s had a day or two like that already from the way her eyes avoid you. 

“You worked a high profile case, with minimal time off, and Saskia turned out fine.”

You smile softly at her. “JJ, I had a serial killer chasing mine and my husband’s ass for three years, slowing down because I was pregnant felt insane. Trust me, I regret it most days. And I went straight back to work because we hadn’t caught him. It wasn’t… it wasn’t exactly a good business model.”

“Will thinks I should pull myself off field work immediately.”

“Do you want that?” you cock your head at her. She doesn’t meet your eye. “JJ, you do what you want to do. If you want to stay on the field, you stay. Just be aware that what you can and can’t do will change dramatically, and so will your job. That’s not a reflection on you, it’s because you’ve got two people to look after.”

She nods and runs a hand through her hair.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Do what feels right, JJ. It’s not a cookie cutter situation, Sweet. Just because it worked for someone else doesn’t mean it’ll work for you. And vice versa.”

She nods then looks up at you. “Thanks. Hot date?” 

You sigh and sooth your hand over your skirt. “Law enforcement gala,” you say. “Strauss wants me to go, because apparently sending Hotch and Rossi would be a political nightmare.” 

“It would,” JJ says. “I’m already sweating at the idea.”

Your phone rings. Caller ID: Aaaidenn. You open your phone just to snap it shut. 

“You okay if I leave?” 

“Uh huh,” JJ says. 

“Go home, think on it, get some sleep,” you reach out and squeeze her hand. She raises her eyebrow at your rings. “They belong to the original,” you smile and open the door. “G’night, JJ.”

“Night.”

Aiden glares at you as you come out the front, giving a small twirl. 

“You’re late,” he says as he leans over and pops the door for you to climb in.

“You don’t own me,” you smile sweetly at him, blowing him a small kiss. He glares at you.

“Nice shoes,” he says. You don’t respond, just stick them on the dashboard so he can look at what he purchased you. “They go with the dress.” 

“Yeah, Aiden,” you say, glaring at him, “that’s usually the intention.”

***

“BAU, right?” the man across from you smiles. You tap a nail against your champagne flute and force a polite smile on your face. 

“Yeah, homicide division?” you respond and his face lights up. He’s taken his wedding ring off but the skin is still moulded to it. You switch the champagne in your hands so he can see your rings and his smile falters. You smirk. 

He tries to keep small talk but he gives up before long, excusing himself to talk with his friends. Leaving you, blissfully, alone. You pull out your phone. 9pm.

You text Aaron:  
Miss u.

And put your phone away again. If only to remind him to remind him to finish his paperwork to pick you up. You tap your nail against your champagne flute until he replies.

Text from: Aaaaaronnnn  
I’ll pick you up at 10.

***

10pm comes, and goes, and then it’s 11, and then it’s midnight, and he’s still not here. You’ve slipped away from Aiden (who’s admittedly far more handsy than usual) and there’s no way you’re going back in. But you haven’t got a ride home, and didn’t plan for this, so instead you’re just pacing outside while the guy from the valet eyes you off. 

“Need a ride?” a man says beside you.

“I’m good,” you smile, moving out of the way as he touches your shoulder. You turn to him to glare, recognising your friend. “Sam!” you laugh.

After the closing of the White Lily Killer, you’d gone into witness protection. If only for your own peace of mind, knowing that there’s always someone watching. Sam Kassmeyer was only just starting out as a Marshal, but honestly he’d been the best thing that had happened to you in that period of your life.

“You look great,” you say, hugging him.

“You look better,” he responds, squeezing your shoulders. “Last time I saw you, you wouldn’t be outside after 4pm. Where’s your little terror?” he asks.

“At her grandad's.” His face practically splits in two when you say it.

“The therapist helped?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He checks his watch, then cocks his head and smiles softly. “Wanna get some real food? Then I’ll drop you home? Looks like your ride stood you up.”

You nod and text Aaron. 

12:08am  
To: Aaaaaronnnn  
I’ve got a ride. Go home.

***

You should have known that ‘getting real food’ with Sam would lead to an eight hour chat at an all night diner. When JJ calls you into the office you realise what a mistake you’d made. Sam tells you he can drive you in and you just pray that your go-bag has enough stuff in it. 

“Hotch wants us upstairs,” Emily says. You nod, barely able to drop your rings into the box before Emily’s grabbing your elbow and dragging you into the conference room, heels clicking against the floor. Morgan whistles at you, followed by Spencer stuttering questions. 

You barely have time to take in the surveillance footage that’s plastered over the TV’s, or the scattered teabags and case files that tell you Aaron’s been working all night, his phone behind the coffee machine.

“Don’t get comfortable, there’ll be time to debrief on the plane,” Aaron says. You nod, watching him carefully.

“Where’re we headed?” Reid asks.

“New York,” Aaron responds, turning, his eyes falling to you. He says nothing but his brow furrows at the fact you haven’t changed yet.

***

He hasn’t talked to you, nor has there been time, as you all climb onto the jet. You blame work, if only because he’s buried deep into paperwork. And you can’t blame him, really. 

“Hey Beautiful,” you smile, squeezing JJ’s shoulder as you take the seat across from her. She looks far too distracted as she hums a greeting.

“How was your night?” she says quietly, almost wistfully.

“Torture. Yours?” 

She just nods and looks like she’s about to cry. It takes all your effort to pull yourself away from her as they start talking about the case, leaning up against Rossi’s seat. Aaron rolls out facts about the case and you cross your arms, desperately fighting your need to yawn.

You’re barely there when you hear ‘Kate Joyner’, your ears perking up. She’d used to work at Scotland Yard and had helped Felix out of a pickle or two when he’d worked an international case. You’d never met her any further than being ‘Felix’s wife’, but you’d heard good things about her. 

“She called me directly,” Aaron’s saying and you have to keep your face impassable knowing that that was the reason you were left outside. Waiting. “Kate’s butting heads with the lead detectives and wanted a fresh set of eyes.”

You drop your eyes and nod. It’s not that hard to butt heads with lead detectives if cases become a joint task force, you know that better than anyone, but being a woman leading those task forces? Shit. Everyone’s ready to butt heads with you just because they don’t want someone with a different anatomy to them telling them what to do. 

“Joyner, I know her, she’s a Brit, right?” Morgan asks. You turn back to JJ as Aaron answers, smiling at her softly as she collapses into her chair. 

“I heard she can be a little bit of a pain in the ass,” Morgan adds onto the end of Aaron’s explanation. You scoff, turning away from the conversation and taking a seat again. You see the tiny turns of Rossi and Spencer’s faces as you almost--almost--stumble in your heels on your way back to the seat.

“I didn’t think so,” Aaron says quietly.

And for the first time since joining the BAU you sit away from Aaron, sliding down your seat, and close your eyes. JJ taps your knee with her foot, placing her arm on the table between you. You smile at her and put your hand in hers.

Each other’s companions in issues neither of you want to divulge. And it’s nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* I don't regret anything that's about to happen.


	12. Chapter 12

New York is… New York. 

It reminds you of why you left DC, with all the people that co-exist, yet never know each other. And it smells atrocious. It smells like people and coffee and petrol and exhaust. The sounds assault you and you can only thank whatever power that may be that there’s no media circus outside.

Morgan catches your wrist after you get through security, dragging you to the back of the group. 

“Are you and Hotch okay?” Morgan whispers. You look at him like you have no idea what he’s talking about, although by the look he gives you, you know he doesn’t believe it. 

“We’re fine, Morgan,” you say because it’s mostly true, besides the lack of words between the two of you. “He’s working a case he’s obviously passionate about, and I just had a late night.” You smile at Morgan who purses his lips and nods.

“Late night, huh?” he teases, and you know that he’s jumped to conclusions about ‘late night’ and your dress that is obviously not work clothes. 

“Really late,” you tease. “Didn’t even get to sleep.” Anything to get Morgan off your back.

“Okay, Mama,” Morgan laughs, clearly impressed. “Go get it.” He finally lets you into the elevator and Aaron’s eyes flick to you, his jaw tensing. He doesn’t stay looking at you for long enough to notice the way your face falls, just a little, sending a soft look his way. It just meets the back of his head.

Finding a time to talk to him was going to be far harder than you thought. 

JJ touches two fingers to your wrists and smiles as the elevator starts up. The New York field office is exactly how you’d imagined it, and you’re beyond glad you didn’t take the job offer here when it had been recommended to you. You ignore JJ’s comment about Kate looking like Haley--although it’s true, you note. 

The NYPD detectives join the team, you look them both over once. The shorter one eyes off your dress and you’re suddenly wishing you had changed. His eyes linger on your cleavage and you don’t give him the satisfaction of covering it up, instead you clear your throat.

“I see you’ve brought your own computer,” he says sourly and you cross your arms, changing your stance entirely. Even Morgan tenses beside you. “Oh, and a guard dog.” If you hadn’t had to work on the case with him you would have flipped him off. Morgan makes a sound like a growl and you hold up a hand softly, telling him it was alright.

“Detectives Brustin and Cooper,” Kate introduces. You don’t move your glare. 

***

When you get the chance you switch your heels out for a pair of flats. You start to feel gross about the whole case when you go with Rossi to the most recent crime scene. The subway’s not cramped, but it’s just got that underground feeling. The tile, the non-fresh-breeze, only two ways out unless you run down the railway. And the railway isn’t exactly a choice you want to make again. Not after Dollhouse.

You jump a little when the P.A. announces the arrival of the next train and Rossi touches a hand to your elbow.

“Do you need air?” he says lowly, turning his back to the group. You shake your head, because you shouldn’t, but you really do. You’d love fresh air, the wind on your face, somewhere else to go other than the damned platform. 

But going back into the street, alone, seems like the dumbest idea you’ve ever had. You feel uncomfortable enough as it is, you wouldn’t want to go up into the street and have a full blown breakdown. That’s happened before.

“Let’s take this upstairs,” Rossi offers to the group. You shake your head, but there’s a wave of noise as people come down the stairs and you KNOW that your eyes balloon wider than they should.

Morgan surveys you, you catch his eye and he nods. JJ, Rossi and Detective Brustin, thankfully, seem to be oblivious. He breaks from the group, returning with a pretzel that he presses in your hand.

“When was the last time you worked a big city case?” he asks as Brustin discusses the case further with JJ and Rossi. You shake your head, tearing a piece off and handing him back the pretzel. 

“I don’t care about the city,” you say as you shove pretzel chunks into your mouth. “Wh-when Dollhouse first started…” You glance at the group, making sure they’re not listening. “Look, I don’t like subways and I don’t like the media, okay, and New York is both of them.”

He nods. “Yeah, I read your files. You had problems with both in White Lily and Dollhouse. But we’re not them, ok? We’re not going to go to Vegas and blow the case before you get to close it.”

Your brain short circuits, blinking at him.

“You said Detective Harden’s name with such disgust we had to look into it,” he teases and throws an arm over your shoulder. “I’m guessing you didn’t see Saskia last night? ‘Cause you can call her when we’re back at the office.”

You side eye him, a tiny smile creeping over your face. He looks proud of himself, and you know he’s accomplished what he set out to do.

“Alright, Derek Morgan, you can stop being my dad now.”

“Gladly.”

***

Morgan pulls JJ aside when you and Rossi are discussing the case with Brustin. 

“Is something wrong with Mom and Dad?” he whispers. JJ shrugs.

“Maybe, but Hotch also took this case out of left field, Morgan. He obviously worked through the night on it, and y/l/n was wearing her wedding ring last night. It was weird,” JJ’s voice drops and she leans in. “That would put anyone on edge.”

“Do you think we were wrong about them being together?” Morgan rubs his bottom lip.

“I hope not,” JJ says, glancing over to you. 

***

The last crime scene had you regretting your pretzel, both because the dead man was holding one and because you’d had to look at his body. But what had you regretting your pretzel more was the hoards of media gathered outside the FBI headquarters. 

You’re jealous of the way Kate and Aaron just climb out the car like it’s nothing, pushing their way through the people like they’re parting the red sea. Morgan squeezes your knee before you climb out the car, staying close behind you as you push through the media.

When you’re finally upstairs you have to take a breath, pulling your hair into a ponytail before joining the group. Prentiss and Reid both look up at you as you slide yourself next to Aaron, hooking your pinky around his.

He glances at you, just quick, then squeezes it lightly. Relief quite literally washes through you and you have to fight to keep your face straight.

***

Aaron is pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans up against the elevator wall, looking thoroughly exhausted. He was trying so hard not to be offended that JJ had announced her pregnancy to you before him, but you’re sure there’s something else bubbling beneath the surface.

“Did you sleep last night?” you ask, arms wrapped around yourself because, damn, this hotel is cold. He shakes his head and scrubs at his forehead.

“No,” he mumbles. “Did you?” 

You shake your head in response. He grunts. The elevator doors open and he practically rolls himself out. You follow him a couple of steps behind, pausing at your door. He stops at the door next to you, and offers you a tiny smile before entering.

The shower water is too hot, but you don’t care because it feels right. You’re mad at yourself for not talking to Aaron earlier, but you’re also mad that he never called when he failed to pick you up. You pull on your pj’s, pull your hair into a bun, and collapse into the bed. 

You lie in the bed for what feels like hours, on your stomach with the pillow clutched to your chest. You type out a text to Aaron, asking if you can talk, but delete it before sending it. You’re still awake at midnight, tossing and turning, so you pick up your phone. This time you don’t delete the message.

Moments later, your phone rings. 

“Aaron?”

“Morgan and Prentiss are patrolling the hallway.”

You pause. “Okay?”

“Were you going to tell me? About Detective Harden?” he asks quietly and you wish you could see his face. 

“One day, Aaron, but you were busy yesterday.”

“I would have heard you out!”

“I told you I arrived to work on a unicycle and you said ‘that’s nice’! You weren’t going to hear anything out!” Tears of frustration threaten to spill down your cheeks. You hear Aaron gasp--just a tiny bit--on the other side of the phone.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers. “And I’m sorry I forgot to pick you up. It’s just that K-- but then this morning, and, when he dropped you off and--” and then he stops, and you’re sure he’s actually crying.

“Aaron?” you whisper, sitting up.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Huh?” then you remember the comment you made to Morgan hits you full force. “Gross, no, I was trying to get Morgan off my back. Aiden ditched me before dinner was even finished.”

“Who kept you up last night?” he asks. 

“Sam Kassmeyer,” you say. “He’s a US Marshal. He looked after me after Felix died, helped me through some things.” You swallow, realising you hadn’t soothed any of his fears. “Sam was at the dinner, he was leaving and noticed I was still there. It was supposed to be just food and-- Oh, god, no, Aaron. We were going to get food and then he’d take me home but we got to talking and there was a lot to catch up on. It wasn’t anything else. Look, I was upset when you didn’t turn up and Sam’s a good friend. But it was never anything more.”

You hear Aaron sniffle on the other side of the phone.

“Aaron, it sucked when you didn’t turn up last night. And sure, I was mad at you, but that’s all.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

“Me too,” you whisper back, collapsing into your pillows. 

“I didn’t want to fuck this up.”

You lie there in silence, staring at the ceiling. 

“Turn up when you say you will, Hotchner, and we should be good for the time being.”

More silence.

“Night, y/n.”

“Night, Aaron.”

And despite having talked, you feel like you haven’t gotten anywhere at all. You don’t move for the longest time, long after you’ve hung up. A part of you longs to sneak next door, curl up in bed with him. Just so you know everything’s fine, just the physical intimacy enough to calm your racing nerves. Another part of you just wants to cry, to curl up in a ball and cry until you don’t feel like you’ve monumentally fucked up the best thing that’s happened for years.

***

When Derek Morgan explodes, he explodes. He goes from calm, level headed, to completely losing his shit with Hotch. Everyone hears it, everyone sees the way he squares up with Hotch, notices when his voice drops low and threatening as he finishes with:

“From where I’m standing, all your focus is on her.” And the room goes silent, save for Hotch ordering him to take a walk. 

You catch Hotch’s eye, glaring at him (okay, maybe because Morgan’s a little bit right), but before you can say anything your phone rings. Your dad’s number.

“Hey,” you say, pulling away from the group.

“Hi mooooooooom,” Saskia says, pulling out your name for as long as she possibly can. You find a quiet corner, leaning up against the wall.

“Hi, Sweet cheeks,” you check your watch. “You should be in school.”

“I miss you.” You can hear her pouting through the phone. “I want to go home.” 

You drop your phone to your chest and take a shaky breath, then raise it back to your ear. “Me too, Saskia, me too.”

“When are you coming home?”

“Soon,” you lie. 

“But you didn’t even say bye,” Saskia whines. 

“I rang you,” you say, as if that makes it better. “What are you doing home?”

“I’m sick.” And she fake coughs. “Grandad said I can stay home.”

“Is he at home?”

“No.”

You hear someone moving around and you know it’s not Saskia. 

“Sweetie, who’s at home with you?” you feel your stomach drop, the horror of being this far away when someone’s in the house with your daughter. She mumbles something, and you can’t make it out. “Who?” she mumbles again. “Who?” you press your hand to your ear, trying to hear clearer.

“Auntie Haley,” she says at last. You think you might throw up with relief, catching Dave’s questioning look and you wave at him.

"Okay," you breath. "That's fine." 

"We're making cookies!" 

"Cookies? Aren't you sick?"

Saskia stops, caught in her lie. You wish you could kiss her forehead. 

"I'm only a little bit sick." There's a long pause and then, "I saw you and uncle Aaron and Uncle Derek on the news." You have no idea when Morgan became 'Uncle Derek' but it makes your heart swell just a little. 

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm. You look pretty."

"Thank-you, baby."

"Auntie Haley wants to talk." There's a commotion and you can hear Saskia and Jack laughing, and then—

"Your dad asked me to watch her," Haley says. And despite being mad at her, you feel relief flow through you. "How's New York?"

The confession that you and Aaron are seeing each other bubbles on your tongue, even in the midst of whatever this is. 

"It's okay. It's work." 

"Can we talk when you're back?" 

"Yeah." 

Dave makes a motion to wrap your phone call up and you nod, turning away from him. 

"Look, Hales, I have to go but if Saskia needs anything dad has a spare key. And the passcode for the security system. Feel free to stay for as long as you want." 

"Thanks." 

"Uh huh."

"Hey, y/n? Make sure Aaron looks after himself." 

You lean your head against the wall and close your eyes.

"I'm not a superhero," you mutter and Hayley laughs. God you miss her.

"Yeah, it's hard work." 

"Kid," Rossi says warningly. 

"Work dad is threatening to ground me," you say, loud enough for him to hear. "I'll text you when I'm coming home, yeah?"

"Call me tonight," she says. "Saskia misses you." 

"I miss her too." Dave nudges your shoulder with the pen in his hand. "I'm pretty sure I'm actually getting grounded. I'll call you tonight. Tell Saskia I love her." 

You hang up before you can cry and turn to Rossi.

"That didn't sound like Saskia," he says accusingly.

"It was and then it wasn't," you respond with a smile. "Want a coffee?" 

He shakes his head. "I'm going to find Morgan." 

"He's not back?" 

Another shake of his head.

Well, shit. Maybe that blow up was big.

***

You called Shelly and asked her how Kate takes her coffee as you got an Earl Grey for Aaron. Shelly almost looks grateful as you push your way into Kate's office.

"Sorry to interrupt the workaholics," you say as you place the drinks in front of both of them. "I also assumed you both haven't eaten but this is the best I could do without leaving the building." You drop two packets of barbecue crisps in front of them. Aaron raises an eyebrow at you.

"That's the worst flavour." 

"Beggars can't be choosers, Aaro… n." You catch the use of his first name too late, having to finish it, the name hanging in the air of Kate's office. 

"I happen to like barbecue," Kate says quietly, picking up her packet. "Did you get anywhere on that phone call? It looked intense." 

You blink, lick your lips nervously. "The case is on national news, that's about it."

"That's all?" 

"It wasn't a work call," you confess. "Look, Kate, Morgan didn't mean to step on your toes. I know he should be the one to tell you that, but I just wanted to tell you." 

"He stepped on Aaron's more than mine," she says sweetly.

"He absolutely meant to step on Hotch's toes," you respond. Hotch crosses his arms in a huff and he’s trying to look like a boss-man but your mood is too bleh to respond the way he wants you to.

“Have we met before?” Kate asks, crisp halfway to her mouth. “I can’t seem to place your face, but your voice is familiar.”

“I was Felix Garza’s wife,” you force a weary smile onto your face. 

“Oh, sorry,” she drops her eyes as you shake your head. 

“It’s okay, ‘s been a long time.” Your phone rings and you pull it out, glancing at it. “Garcia.” You flick your phone open. “Hello my sweet angel, you’re on speaker.”

“I ran through the security footage, another time like you asked, and we’ve got a big problem. They’re all different people. Every single one of them,” Garcia seems way too worked up about it. 

“Thank-you, lovely, have you had dinner?”

“Soon,” she says and you know she’s in working mode.

“Look after yourself, Garcia. We need you,” you blow her a kiss and she blows one back before hanging up.

“You asked--?” Aaron says, a cloud forming across his face.

“You were busy,” you shrug and out the corner of your eye you can see Kate’s eyebrow shoot up as she looks between the two of you. “I’ll go find Dave and Morgan.” You back out of the room, pausing before you’ve fully passed Kate’s windows, backing up once more. “Dial down the dad tone with Morgan just a little bit,” you say to Aaron. “I don’t want him pacing the hallways again tonight.”

You hold his gaze and you know that he gets it when he swallows, nods, and adverts his gaze. 

“Pacing the hallways?” you hear Kate ask as you walk away and you can’t help the tiniest little smirk.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ just a little tiny fluffy situation to make up for the awkwards of the last two ~

Aaron’s the one pacing now. 

You both know there’s something wrong with the case, an unsettling feeling in both of your guts, but there’s nothing you can do without getting sleep. Your head’s already full, a pounding headache threatening to come through full force. 

You’re sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him go back and forth, back and forth, until you want to just knock him out so he’ll stop walking. You reach out and grab his wrist as he passes once more, tugging him towards you.

“There’s nothing you can do until you sleep,” you say, pressing a hand lightly to his stomach. 

“There should be,” he grumbles.

“I know,” you respond, cupping his face in your hands. “You look exhausted.”

You run your hands through the sides of his hair and he sighs into you, resting his forehead on yours.

“You do too.” 

“Sleep, Aaron. You’re no use to anyone if you’re tired.”

“Says you,” he mumbles accusingly. You twist your head, pulling him into a kiss that he doesn’t fight against. He squeaks in surprise as you pull him down onto the mattress, hooking your arm around his neck so he can’t go anywhere. 

He breaks the kiss, kissing down your jaw and sucking at your neck until you playfully swat him away to avoid explaining the hickeys in the morning. He whines a little, pressing a kiss to your shoulder through your shirt.

“Did you call Saskia again?” he mumbles into your skin as you shuffle back further onto the mattress. He whines and grabs at you, you’re half tempted to haul him up with you.

“I’d prefer not to talk about my daughter while you’re kissing me,” you say. He hasn’t moved from his awkward position half on/half off the mattress, arms wrapped around your waist while he looks up at you with those massive brown eyes.

“I’m not kissing you right now,” he says, dropping his chin into your lap.

“Touche,” you smile and push his hair back. “I did talk to her. And on the topic of ‘conversations not to have while kissing’, I have to tell Haley something.” He raises an eyebrow and you wish you didn’t see the flash of fear in his eyes. “Aaron, she’s like my sister. I literally don’t think it’s possible for me to go another conversation with her without saying something.”

“How many conversations have you had with her?” he says, face becoming something between a pout and betrayal.

“Two,” you say, running a finger down his temple. “Today. Other than that I haven’t talked to her since I applied for this job.”

God, that look he gives you. He buries his face into your lap and shakes his head slowly.

“ ‘m sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Why’re you sorry?” 

“I don’t want to be the reason you two aren’t talking.” 

You tug on his hair lightly until he turns his face up to you. “I make my own choices of who I do and don’t talk to, Aaron. No offence, but I would have talked to Haley either way. We just needed some space to work some differences out.”

Space, as in, ‘give her the cold shoulder until she apologises for cheating on Aaron’. Which, admittedly, she did when you called her back. If only because the start of your conversation had been a little on the cold side. And by a little, you meant a lot. You thought you’d left your ability to be that stand-offish back in highschool.

“I’m not offended,” Aaron says quietly as he pulls himself up onto the bed, crawling over you until he’s perched over the top of you, hands either side of your head. None of his body touches yours but, god, can you feel his body heat. “What do you want to tell her?”

“All of it,” you confess, hooking a finger into his waistband and tugging him towards you. “But it’ll be the PG version.”

He chuckles, lowering himself until you’ve almost got skin contact. He presses a kiss to your nose.

“All we’ve done is the PG version,” his voice is husky as he drops another kiss on your nose, then your cheek.

“Then I won’t be lying to her,” you giggle, turning your head as he tries to kiss you. 

“You could lie to her,” he offers against your ear. Your breath catches and you know that he’s noticed because he’s kissing down your neck hungrily, sucking at your pulse point.

“Aaron Hotchner, I am not having sex with you in a hotel room in New York with the team this far away.” You hold up your hand, thumb and forefinger dangerously close to each other. “When I do have sex with you, I don’t plan on keeping quiet.”

The way his mouth stutters against your neck tells you that you’ve said the right thing. 

“I hate you,” he mumbles into your neck as he shifts awkwardly. Honestly, you’re not much better. He ducks his head into your shoulder as he yawns.

“Tired already?” you tease. He nuzzles your shoulder and shakes his head. “Would’ve been lousy sex if you’re tired after kissing.” He lifts his head, nipping softly at your shoulder as he rolls off you. 

Someone knocks on the door over.

“Is that for you?” Aaron mumbles.

“I’m asleep,” you say back, turning to him as he sits up, scrubbing at his hair. “Where’re you going?”

“Cold shower,” he says, glancing at you with flushed cheeks. “What are you going to tell the team in the morning?” He leans over, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“If anyone has the audacity to bring up my absence in my own room I’m going to remind them we have a job to do.”

He chuckles. “You could just tell them you were asleep.”

Whoever it is knocks again. 

“Because that’s believable.” 

***

You’re mostly asleep when Aaron comes back, turning off the main light before sliding into bed. He lies on his back, unmoving, until you turn into him, noticing the digital clock that’s violently telling you it’s 3:48 in the morning.

“Have you slept?” you whisper, nuzzling into his side.

“Can’t,” he says back, just as low. 

You nod, throwing your arm over him. He sighs and puts an arm under you, drawing you to his chest. You methodically rub circles on his chest until his head drops to yours, his breathing evening out. You smile as he snores lightly, letting yourself fall back to sleep.

You barely even register the third knock at your door. Whoever it is can wait until morning.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's team bonding time with our favourite resident step-son-meet-brother-in-law, Derek Morgan.

You wish you could say the day’s gone off without a hitch, but that’s lying. And you know it’s lying. You go from thinking that the attacks are a family, or a gang, to fully acknowledging that it’s a homegrown terrorist organisation. Aaron’s so stressed you think his heart might give out in a second, and Kate’s the same. When Saskia rings you don’t even get a chance to answer it, you just have to live with the knowledge that you’ve hung up on your daughter because work’s so busy. She’ll understand. (She won’t, she’s a kid).

Your adrenaline’s running too high for this time of night as you all stand around in a circle. For once, Morgan’s playing nice with Kate. It’s only because he’s finally in his element.

“The one advantage we have right now is that they don’t know we know they’re watching,” Kate says as she’s leaving back to her office. On the way out you catch Aaron's wrist, squeezing it lightly while he's making a phone call.

“See you tomorrow,” you say quietly. Kate raises an eyebrow as she catches the gesture, catches the way Aaron flips your squeeze on his wrist to a quick hand hold that he squeezes before he lets go. 

You watch her as she cocks her head at you, and you offer her a small smile before fleeing into the street to your SUV. Haley calls as if on queue and you can’t help but smirk.

“Greetings Stranger,” you tease, putting her on loud speaker as you pull out.

“I’m keeping Saskia home from school tomorrow.”

“You spoil her.”

“Her school’s been talking non-stop about New York,” Haley says and that’s all the explanation you need. 

“Ah, Haley, the best human I know. Is she doing okay?"

"Sound asleep. I can wake her if you want?"

"No, no. Let her sleep." You know you're miles ahead of everyone else as you pull into the precinct. "I have to go, Hales," you say, grabbing your phone and bag.

She starts to say "okay" when the connection dies. You look at your phone to make sure it hasn't died (it shouldn't have). For a heart beat, the world pauses. Then it breaks, throwing itself into action. 

You know it’s happened.

They’ve blown something up.

And you’ve got no idea where the team is.

**

“Garcia,” you say forcefully. “I don’t want to know.” You’ve finally gotten onto the phone with her, while blitzing through the streets of New York, and she’s worked up. You know she is. She answered the phone with the most heartbreaking ‘Hotch’ you’d ever heard and you knew you wouldn’t get any work done if you knew the rest of what Garcia was going to say.

But you do. You really, really, do want to know if Aaron’s okay. It burns in your chest but it’s easier to push down if you have no idea what else she’s going to say. 

“Morgan’s chasing the unsub,” Garcia says, changing the subject. You nod, humming in acknowledgement as you round the corner, just to see Morgan running down the subway stairs. You slam your brakes, grabbing your gun.

“Seen, I’m going with him,” you don’t give her time to say anything else before you hang up, jumping out of the car. 

All you can think about, running through the subway screaming at people to move, is thank god for adrenaline. There’s no way you could have done it otherwise. The rush of flying into the unknown, mingled with the heart stopping fear of going down that train with no noise around but Morgan and your breathing. Dropping onto the train tracks that you know all too well, the high voltage buzzing around you.

If Morgan wasn’t yelling you’re sure you’d be having a full blown panic attack. You’re barely listening as Sam walks the track like a beam at gymnastics, his shoes discarded on the sleepers. 

Sam looks Morgan dead in the face, fingers laced behind his head, and smiles. 

“You fear what we embrace,” he says. And You know what’s happening. You’re grabbing Morgan’s belt before you can think, pulling him back from the train tracks and shielding yourself from the buzzing and sizzling flesh.

God, you hate New York. 

“Morgan,” you wheeze, holstering your gun. “That was dumb, impulsive and stupid. Don’t do it again.”

He glares at you, but it’s only softly, the reality of the day kind of sinking in. There’s no room to be mad at each other. Instead you reach over, clasp his shoulder, and pull you into him.

“Did you check in with the team?” he asks as you pull away.

“I called Garcia,” you respond simply. He holds your gaze.

“Did she give you an update about Hotch?”

“I told her not to tell me.” You pull out your phone, taking pictures of the unsub before dragging Morgan away. “Uniform can deal with this.”

“You don’t want to know? What is there to not want to know about?”

“Morgan. We’ve got a job to do, and worrying about Aaron isn’t going to get me anywhere.” Okay, maybe you say that a little too forcefully. It startles Morgan, blinking at you as you climb back into the train. 

“I thought you’d be all over making sure he’s okay.” You run your hand through your hair, turning back to him. This wasn’t a conversation to have right now. Uniform comes blundering down the train and you just point them in the direction of Sam, not saying anything to them.

When you’re above ground you send JJ the picture of Sam, dead, no context because you’re fed up, tired, overwhelmed, and just want this case to be over. Sixteen missed calls from Haley. You beckon Morgan into the car, texting Haley.

Text to: Haley Babey  
Oudl

(‘Okay, update later’. It’s been, thankfully, far too long since you’ve last used the abbreviated code. You hope Haley remembers.)

“Where to?” you ask Morgan, tossing your phone into the cup holder. 

“Saint Barclay’s, do you need directions?” 

You glance at him then nod. 

“Look,” Morgan says as you round the last corner, the hospital right in your eyesight. “Whatever’s happening between you and Hotch, I’m not going to tell the team.” You don’t even try to correct him. You just smile and nod, not looking at him. “Y/L/N, I mean it.”

“Okay,” is all you say in response.

***

“This is a lot of security,” you say quietly as you enter the mostly-empty hospital. Morgan nods, steps ahead of you. You’ve both got your credentials out, flashing them as you come up to the reception.

“Doc, FBI,” Morgan says and you both flick up your credentials. “How’s Aaron Hotchner?”

For the first time you let your body slow down, hands braced against the counter.

“He’s got acute acoustic trauma in his right ear, and I pulled shrapnel from his leg.”

“But he’s okay?” you ask quietly. As if in response there’s a commotion, followed by nurses asking someone to lie down. You and Morgan both know it’s Aaron. Morgan goes immediately, you leaning over and taking Aaron’s paperwork from where it was in front of the doctor.

When the doctor comes back he’s frowning at you as you run your finger down everything listed.

“SSA Joyner?” you ask and the doctor does the least hopeful shrug you’ve seen in your life.

“She’s still in surgery. She lost a lot of blood.” 

You nod. She’s in good hands, you don’t have to worry about her. (You will, you know you will, but you can rationalise pushing it to the back of your mind at this point). You give the clipboard back to him.

“Has he been okay?” you ask, pointing to the bed where Hotch should be. The doctor gives you an incredulous look. “Point taken.”

“The profile’s wrong,” Morgan relays as you come in. You watch as Aaron bounces on his heels, still attached to all the cursed wires that come along with hospital visits, and take a nervous, shaky breath. Okay, so you had been really worried about him.

“You need to sit down,” you say as forcefully as you can.

“I’m okay, we need to work on the profile.” Aaron almost--ALMOST--starts pacing and you can’t help stepping forward, one hand on his wrist, the other resting against his hospital gown which is, honestly, freaking you the fuck out.

“We will work on the profile, if you sit down,” you say by way of ultimatum. Aaron doesn’t meet your eye. “Aaron Hotchner, sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“Aaron,” and your voice cracks just a little. Morgan shuffles on his feet, stepping back just a little. Aaron finally looks at you, eyes meeting and you see the pain flood through his eyes. “Sit down.”

He does as he’s told, perched on the edge of his bed. Morgan seems to take the hint, backing out the curtained room, returning to the doctor. You watch him leave, then turn back to Aaron, brushing your fingers against the abrasions on his face, just lightly, earning a slight hum from him. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into him, pressing his face into your chest. You drop a kiss to his hair, burying your nose into his explosion-reeked hair.

You feel like your heart is cracking as Aaron lets out a shaky breath, hands curling against your back. You tighten your grip until you’re sure you’ll break him, then pull away.

“You can work the profile,” you whisper, biting your cheeks as you fight the impulse to kiss his forehead. “But you can’t leave this bed until your go bag turns up, deal?”

“I’m fine,” he repeats. You glance up at the curtains, dropping your voice.

“You might be, but at this point it’s for my peace of mind.” He looks up at you when you finish, his face contorted. Half of him seems to be determined he’s fine, another understanding what you meant.

“Look at me, I’m okay,” he says, reaching up to cup your face.

“You will stay here until your go-bag turns up,” you whisper, keeping your eyes on his to avoid looking at all the cuts peppered over his face. “The team can work on the profile.” He nods, thankfully. You’re grateful for turning that around so quickly.

“Go-bag,” Morgan calls as he comes in. You and Aaron separate like teenagers, Aaron dropping his hands to the mattress. You wrap your arms around your stomach as you twist away, pretending like the ceiling is something worth looking at. 

“Thanks,” Aaron mumbles, standing far slower than he had before. “Call the team, get them to bring the new profile.” You nod, pulling out your phone but he holds up a hand. “Stay, I need to discuss something.”

You flash an apologetic smile to Morgan. He doesn’t respond, not even a little, before drawing the curtains closed. Aaron holds out a hand, little grabby fingers and you help him to his feet. He groans a little as he bends for his bag.

“The team can do this,” you say quietly. “No one will think any less of you.”

“I need to,” he responds. You pick up the bag, place it on the bed and fish out a fresh shirt, a pair of pants. You pull out a red tie, soothing the creases out. 

“Okay,” you respond softly. You turn, finding him incredibly close, and blink as he brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear. 

“I have to tell you something,” he says. He falters, just for a moment, and with horror you realise what he’s about to say. It’s not horror, so much as the stirring pit of discomfort that he was about to say because of a near death experience rather than actually meaning it. “Y/N, I… I lo--”

You clasp your hand over his mouth so he’ll stop. “Not here, not like this,” you whisper, even though here, now, and like this seems like as good a time for a confession of love than any. If not more. “You keep that, and you hold onto it, and you tell me when this is all over.” He nods with his eyes. “Promise me.” 

He peels your hand away from his mouth, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “I promise.” 

“Good,” you say weakly. “Now get dressed, the team’ll be here any moment.”

You pull away, only to return a second later, kissing him. He leans into it, cupping the back of your neck until Morgan clears his throat. Aaron groans as you pull away and point to his clothes. You slip out of the room like you haven’t seen him change before, blushing as Morgan catches your eye.

“Vest,” he says, holding out the bulletproof vest.

“Thanks.”

He must catch the untrusting look that crawls over your face because he raises an eyebrow as he tightens his vest.

“I said what I said. My lips are sealed.” 

You hold his gaze, then drop your eyes. You don’t say anything in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're about to do some messies with canon, but it's going to be FUN.


	15. Chapter 15

Aaron's trying so hard not to make noise as he gets dressed but you can hear the tiny little hisses. It's only when you hear him stumble a little do you duck back behind the curtain. 

He glances up at you, eyes dropping, his tie draped over his fingers. 

"I can't," he says quietly. You nod, peeling his fingers off and tying it for him. He presses his hand to his ear, eyes fluttering in pain. You don't ask if he's okay because you know he's not and you know he'll say he's fine. 

"You need to look after yourself," you say quietly, earning a groan from him. "Don't push yourself too far." You tap his chest lightly, kiss his cheek and motion to the bullet proof vest on the bed. "Need help?"

"I'm okay." 

You glance down at it and nod. He doesn't look back at you as you leave, pulling on the velcro of your own vest and soothing it down. Morgan nods. 

"We'll get them," Morgan offers as you hear the team's blundering footsteps.

"It's not them I'm worried about," you respond before scoring your face into something that resembles a professional air of calm. Which is possibly too calm, judging by the slight raise of his eyebrow. 

“Is everyone okay?” Emily says as she rounds the corner, putting her laptop on the counter.

“Peachy,” you respond automatically and it seems to calm her. She looks like she wants to go in for a hug and, while you desperately want to cave and give one to her, you don’t. You’re barely holding it together as it is.

Rossi looks at you, that marine stare feeling like it can see right through you. You refuse to look back at him. There’s no way you’re going to brake in front of the team. Not right now.

You hang at the back of the room, hugging yourself, popping up with input every now and then. When Spencer motions to the laptop, playing the footage of the explosion, your mind goes blank.

Well, not blank. More like full. Like someone’s packed your brain full of cotton wool and there’s nothing you can do with it. You’re just stuck, watching as the car explodes and Aaron folds like a ragdoll. Over and over again. You have to flick your eyes to him just to make sure you know he’s okay. But other than that, there’s no emotion, just… heavy. You let your eyes flutter shut, just for a breath, then rejoin the world of the living. 

Emily’s eyes flick between you and Hotch. You refuse to look at her.

***

Morgan leaves before anyone notices. Anyone, minus you. You’re running down the stairs after him, knowing the team can handle the rest on their own. He’s in the back of the ambulance when you reach him, hunched over a bomb. You both know what needs to be done.

“You know how to drive this thing?” you ask, handing him a screwdriver.

“Yeah,” he responds.

“Then go drive,” you order. 

“Y/N,” he begins to protest but you’re pushing him out of the ambulance.

“No time to argue, there’s a bomb in here.” 

You can hear Garcia in your ear, protesting.

“You guys can evacuate the building like everyone else,” she says but you’re pulling the back doors shut and dropping to your knees like you’ll know how to defuse the bomb. You don’t.

“Everyone here knows that’s not going to work out,” you respond. Morgan turns to check on you and you wave him off. “Focus on getting this out of here, Morgan.”

And bless him, he does. You pull your earpiece out, pushing the window to the front seats. 

“It’s just you and Garcia on the comms,” you say.

“You have a kid at home,” Morgan snaps.

“All the more incentive for you to get us out here safe,” you respond, dropping to your knees in the pools of blood. Kate, you think quietly. You try desperately hard not to think about how easily it could have been Aaron. How easily Kate and Aaron positions could have been switched.

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes. Not now. Don’t think about it now.

“Can you diffuse it?” Morgan asks, turning back to you.

“Eyes front,” you say, not looking up at him. “I have a kid to get home to.”

He literally growls at you.

“How am I doing Garcia?” he calls. 

“Don’t think, just go,” you yell at him. You grab the heaviest looking object that can fit through the small window and push it through. 

“Signals back online,” he relays to you.

“Put this down on the accelerator, then get out,” you order.

“There’s something I really want you to know, Garcia,” Morgan says and you find yourself biting your tongue. “Just listen to me, you know what you are Garcia?”

You look back at the bomb, then scream at him to get out. You launch out the back doors, rolling as you collide with the ground, sure that you’ve broken something. If not broken, your bruises are going to be pretty. Morgan groans beside you, clutching at his arm. 

You don’t listen to whatever he tells Garcia. You’re too busy trying to put air back in your lungs. It’s not until Morgan grabs you by the elbow, hauling you to your feet, that you realise what you’ve just done.

“I thought we talked about dumb, impulsive, and stupid,” you say, but your voice is rasped. You brace yourself against your knees as you’re raked with a coughing fit. 

“You okay?” he asks, hand covering above your back as if he doesn’t know what to do.

“I’m going to kill you,” you say as you regulate your breath. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me?” Morgan laughs, pressing a hand to his chest modestly. “Kill me?”

“Yes, you. You just killed our ride back!” You motion dramatically to the ball of flame behind you. For a split second, Morgan looks horrified, but then he realises you were joking and chuckles.

“I’m sure someone will let us ride with them,” Morgan smiles, squeezing your shoulders. 

***

You’re fine.

Just some minor bruising, a couple of abrasions, you’ve literally had worse from lesser things. Mentally, though, you feel drained. Like someone yanked the plug out of wherever you store your emotions. 

Every motion you make is mechanical. Cold, calculated, nothing like your everyday movements. You give it to yourself, though. The day’s been tough. The week’s been tough. 

Garcia’s already yelled at you for going with Morgan. You don’t think she was expecting you to let her finish because she got half way through a sentence that you weren’t particularly listening to before she burst into tears, pulling you into a hug. The rest of it was just Garcia blubbering against your shoulder. 

And then there had been Dave. He’d been disappointed, you know, because he’d just stood there with his arms crossed until he’d told you that you had a death wish. You didn’t dignify him with a response. You hadn’t had the energy to.

Everyone else you’d managed to avoid. 

Save for Aaron, who met you at the hotel. He’d jammed his foot in the door as you’d entered, leaning up against the door frame.

“Why’d you go with Morgan?’ he asks, arms crossed. 

“I dunno,” you respond. Because you don’t. At the time it was just because Morgan wasn’t going to be smart about it. But looking back on it, maybe Rossi was right. Maybe it had just been because you had a death wish.

You try to fit your shoes from the gala in your go-bag (had that night really been at the start of all this?) but the little bird clasps won’t fit in the bag, they keep getting stuck on the zipper, and you’re violently reminded of the looming anniversary of your husband’s death on the horizon, and it all just snowballs until you find yourself tipping your bag upside down, shaking out the contents.

“Hey,” Aaron says softly as he leaves the door frame, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you into him, your back against his chest, and rests his chin on your shoulder. “It’s over. We closed the case.”

You throw your go-bag forcefully onto the bed like it’ll make a point. Your clothes bounce on the mattress, scattering themselves. Aaron nuzzles his nose into your neck, pressing a feather light kiss against your skin. You turn your face away from him, blinking away the tears that glaze your eyes. You pick up one of your shirts, folding it aggressively.

“It’s over,” he whispers once more.

“It doesn’t feel over,” you mumble, shoving your shirt into your bag. Aaron squeezes you softly.

“I know, Sweetheart. But it is.”

You pick up your shirt from last night, folding it, throat catching at Kate’s blood coating the cuffs. And apparently, that was all you needed to break. 

“It could’ve been you,” you blubber as you hold it up, half tempted to tear the sleeve so you don’t have to look at the blood stain. “It could’ve been you,” you repeat. 

Aaron grabs your shoulders, turning you to face him. 

“It wasn’t me,” he whispers, cupping your face. “I’m okay.” He runs his thumb over your cheeks as your bottom lip quivers. He pulls you in for a hug just in time for the floodgates to open.

You can’t help the sobs that rake through your body. There’s nothing cute about the way you cry into his chest, so close to fully wailing, as he just rocks you. He cradles the back of your head, hushing you quietly. 

“Everything’s okay,” he whispers into your ear. “Everyone’s fine.” 

Although, everyone’s not fine. Kate’s not fine. Aaron almost wasn’t fine, you can’t get rid of the image of Aaron folding like a ragdoll, flying out of frame. He almost wasn’t fine. Aaron rubs your back and presses a slow kiss to the top of your head.

“We’re going home,” he whispers when you stop sobbing. He hooks two fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face up, wiping away your streaks of tears and pressing two light kisses to your cheeks. “Everything’s fine.”

You sniffle and bring your hands up to his chest to try and wipe the tears from his shirt. He smirks at you, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“Let’s get this packed then,” he smiles. You drop your head and wipe your nose on the back of your hand.

“I guess.”

He smiles as he lowers himself on the edge of your bed, pulling a pile of clothes towards him.

“That will wash out if you soak it,” he says pointing to the blood stained shirt still in your hand.

“It’ll wash out easier if I put it in the bin,” you respond, lining the bottom of your back with it.

“True.” He passes you a folded pair of pants. 

“Thanks.”

He nods. He picks up the shoes, turning them over in his hands. “These are nice.”

“They’re from Detective Harden,” you respond. He pulls a face, holding them out in front of him like he’d just touched a particularly bad bin bag. When you giggle he smiles, and genuinely that time.

“Pretty expensive for a Detective’s salary,” he says as he turns it over in his hands, clearly looking impressed as he looks at the base.

“Are you telling me that the great Aaron Hotchner knows how much high heels cost?” 

“Sometimes,” he chuckles. “He also knows how to look at the price still on the bottom.” He smirks, flipping the shoe to show you. You roll your eyes, grabbing them from him and sliding them into your bag. 

“I’m impressed. I can see how you got promoted,” you tease. He smirks at you shyly, handing you a pile of folded clothes. Once everything’s back in your go bag Aaron jumps up, wrapping his arms around you and holding your arms back.

“Let’s not tip this upside down, this time,” he whispers in your ear. You snort as you try not to laugh. He reaches forward, grabbing the zip of your go-bag. 

“I’m a big girl, I can zip up my own bag,” you fake whine, but you don’t do anything to stop him. You both listen as Spencer and JJ walk passed, talking about something nonsensical. Aaron buries his face in your neck, peppering kisses to the soft skin.

“Hey,” he says against your skin, nipping at it softly. “Can I tell you that I love you now?” 

Your heart stutters. A small grin spread across your face and you drop your head back to his shoulder, looking at him with complete adoration.

“Only if you mean it.”

He turns you to face him once more, arms wrapped around your waist. He lets you stew for a moment, watching you softly. 

“I love you,” he smiles. You stroke his cheek and blush. Yes, you blush.

“I love you too.”

“I know,” he chuckles and leans down. He stays teasingly close to your lips before you grab the back of his head and bring him in. It’s slow at first, then it’s all tongue and passion and you’re falling onto the bed with Aaron on top of you.

His hands make quick work of your shirt, kissing down your chest. He fondles your breast over your bra, kissing the soft skin of your other one. A quiet moan escapes you, running a hand through his hair. Aaron smirks, nipping at your skin softly.

He comes back up, kissing a trail as he does, kissing your jaw, then meeting your mouth. You lean up into him, back arching. You catch his bottom lip in your teeth, tugging at it lightly. He smirks when you let it go, eyes flicking up and down your body.

“I love you,” he whispers. You sigh again and fuck does that make Aaron smug. You squeeze your legs together, hands pressed to his stomach. 

“I love you,” you whisper in return, leaning up to kiss him as he pulls away, chuckling when you can’t reach him. 

Somebody knocks at your door.

Aaron’s head snaps around so quick and he hisses, hand flying to his ear. You bite your lip, watching his face as he scrunches his eyes closed, riding out the pain. 

“You okay?” you ask, running the back of your fingers over his arm. 

“Y/N, we’ve got a plane to catch!” Garcia yells through the door.

Aaron groans, rolling to the side so you can get up. He lies on his back, hand clutched to his ear as he scrunches his eyes shut. You rest a hand on his thigh, squeezing lightly and stand, going to the door. You almost forget that your shirt’s not done up, thankfully remembering in the nick of time and opening the door enough for Garcia to see your eyes.

“Give me five?” you ask. She stomps playfully and crosses her arms. “I’m just doing a final sweep, making sure I haven’t forgot anything.” 

“Sure,” she whines. “I’m right here, though. No more than five minutes.”

“Thank-you,” you smile, closing the door. Aaron’s pushed himself up, hand still at his ear. 

“Five minutes?” he smiles. It’s far too obvious that he’s in pain.

“I think Garcia’s five is like eighty seconds.”

“That’s generous.”

You do the buttons of your shirt back up, groaning as you do them wrong and have to do them again. It only makes Aaron chuckle. You glare at him but you’re smiling a little too.

“You have someone to drive you home, yes?” you ask as you finally get your buttons right. He nods, head bent, favouring his ear. “Let me see,” you say quietly cupping his face. He protests a little but he drops his hand. 

“I’m okay,” he grumbles. You hum a completely judgmental hum, looking at his ear like you’d know what’s wrong with it. 

“I’m sorry I can’t fix it.”

He grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles. “Garcia’s waiting.”

“Call me when you get home.” You lightly trace your fingernails through his hair, smiling softly at him. 

“I will,” he hums. “Did you ever find out who was knocking at your door last night?”

You shake your head. There hadn’t been time. Garcia knocks again, yelling your name far too loudly. Aaron slides your go-bag to you and chuckles as you roll your eyes.

“I don’t even need to be at home to have people waiting on me to leave,” you grumble. Aaron grabs your waist band, pulling you to him. He tilts his head up and you meet him halfway, kissing him lightly. 

“I love you,” he says once more and looks far too smug when you nuzzle his face with your nose.

“I love you too, Aaron Hotchner. And now I have to go.”

Garcia hooks her arm in yours as you come out, making sure not to open the door too far lest she see Hotch still on your bed.

“You, beautiful lady, are glowing,” Garcia says as you both hurry down the corridor. You look at her, shaking your head, but there’s no way to get rid of the happy feeling that’s burning inside you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ this was really fun to write ~


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ a short Haley moment that feels like fun ~  
> ~ it's MESSY but we gotta give Haley some fun, kidlets ~

You wrestle with the front door, jiggling your keys trying to get the door open because the case… well, New York might be closed but you’re not opposed to being stuck on the couch for the next three weeks watching Kim Possible or something. When you get the door open you kick your bag in.

“Mom!” Saskia screeches, barrelling down the hallway which has… foam bowling pins by the door? Saskia barrels into you, jumping up and wrapping all her limbs around you. You stumble, squeezing her as you step around the bowling pins and close the door with your foot. At nine-years-old she really is getting too big to launch herself into your arms.

“I missed you,” you tell her, kissing her cheek. She squeezes her arms around you tighter. 

“I missed you too.” 

“What’s up with all the bowling pins?” you ask, going to put her down but she holds on tighter. 

“Me and Jack were playing.” 

You raise an eyebrow, weaving your way through the mess. Haley looks up at you when you get into the kitchen, looking guilty with a spoonful of peanut butter hanging out her mouth. You glance around, raising an eyebrow.

“Where’s your mini-me?” you ask, lowering Saskia to the couch. She doesn’t let go, still gripped to you.

“Napping,” Haley says, pointing behind her. 

“Can I say hi to Aunty Haley?” you ask Saskia. She shakes her head and you sigh, shifting so you collapse on the couch with her curled on top of you. You hear Haley grab something before she joins you, handing over a tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies.

“Saint,” you breathe, grabbing one and biting into it. Absolute heaven. 

“How was the case?” Haley asks. You run your hand through Saskia’s hair and twist your head to look at her.

“Ask me another question,” you respond through cookie crumbs. 

Haley reaches over, stroking Saskia’s hair, then curls up on the couch, watching you. 

“Are you still mad at me?” 

You blink, slowly, then press Saskia’s head to your chest, one ear to your chest and your hand over her other. 

“No, Hales,” you smile. She pulls a face and you squint at her. “I wouldn’t have let you stay here if I was mad at you. Upset, maybe.” You reach over and boop her nose. “Still love you though.”

You glance down at Saskia, who’s gone limp in your arms, her breathing even.

“She hasn’t slept properly for days,” Haley says quietly. You smile, pressing a kiss to Saskia’s head. 

“Thank-you for looking after her, you didn’t have to do it.”

“We had fun. I haven’t seen her since…” Haley trails off.

“Felix’s funeral. I know.” You lift your legs onto the couch, shoving your feet under Haley’s knees. “I’m sorry I dropped off the face of the earth.”

“You were dealing with it, I get it.” But she doesn’t look at you so you know she doesn’t quite get it. “The anniversaries coming up soon, right?” She thrusts the tupperware to you and you grab another cookie. 

“Yeah.” You munch on the cookie, brushing crumbs from Saskia’s hair as they fall on her. 

“You doing alright?” Haley asks.

You hold her look. For your whole life you’d shared most things with her (everything, minus almost getting divorced to Felix, and the current “”situation”” with Aaron), and telling her that you weren’t… exactly… coping… well, that’s something you really wanted to do. Except to tell her, you’d have to tell her about Aaron, and while you’d already talked it through with him it felt weird to tell Haley now.

But, by god, did you want to tell her. 

“I dunno,” you respond, because that’s as truthful as you can get. “Can I wedge myself into your dead marriage for a second?” Haley raises an eyebrow. “Can you make sure Aaron sees Jack?”

“Why?” Haley’s face is immediately impassable. Good thing you didn’t tell her about you and Aaron then. 

“Hales, honestly. New York was messy, he just needs to see him.”

“Did Aaron tell you to ask this?” she says, tossing the tupperware to the floor and standing. “He can ask me himself.”

You watch her stomp around the kitchen, angrily washing your dishes (bless her but what?), then glare at her.

“Kate Joyner died.”

Haley pauses, glass in her hand, soapy water dripping from it.

“He was with her the whole time, he just needs to see something that’ll make him forget. Just for a moment.”

“Yeah,” Haley says quietly. “I can do that.”

***

“You have a visitor,” Morgan says teasingly as he walks past your desk. For a fortnight it had been paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork, and honestly it was kind of therapeutic after New York. 

You swivel in your chair to see your highschool friend, Crystal, looking far too comfortable with the security escort she’s with. You wonder how many times she’s flirted with him on the way up in the elevator.

“Hi Crystal?” you say, standing. She embraces you, her far too big necklace digging into you.

“It’s our lunch date,” Crystal squeaks. You know she’s only squeaking because she wants the attention from everyone else in the office. “Hales is downstairs, c’mon.” She grabs your hand and you flail for your handbag as she drags you out. 

The three of you end up having lunch at a tiny little alleyway cafe, which is cute as hell. Your conversations start with the usual, updates about your kids, what your husbands are up to (although that one is just Crystal talking about her fourth husband), job changes. Then Haley slides you the plate of truth.

The plate of truth was tradition. No one knows how it originated, but one day you’d just agreed that if there was a plate with white chocolate chip cookies in front of you, you had to tell the truth about whatever question was put before you. There wasn’t a punishment, at least not that you thought, but the three of you had always agreed that the punishment for lying would be worse than death.

“What’s this for?” you ask, picking one up.

“A truth!” Crystal smiles, pulling off her rings and scattering them across the table. Haley leans on the table and you immediately know she’s not about to play nice. Crystal takes a sip of her coffee.

Haley raises an eyebrow. “Y/N, are you sleeping with my ex-husband?”

Crystal spits her coffee all over the table. You just stare at Haley with your mouth hanging open because, honestly, what?

“Are you going to answer?” Crystal asks as she dabs the coffee off herself.

“I--” you stutter.

“It’s a yes or no question,” Crystal pushes.

“No it’s not!” you squeak defensively. “Because... “ you take a shaky breath. Because there’s no way to get around it without upsetting Haley. “I’m not… I’m not sleeping with him.”

“There,” Crystal says, leaning back triumphantly. “I told you she wouldn’t.”

Haley pushes the plate at you once more. “Are you with Aaron romantically?” 

You glance between Haley and the plate, then your shoulders slump. You grab your bag, ready to leave the moment Haley starts having a meltdown. 

“Oh my god, wait, really?” Crystal squeaks. “Since when?” 

You just blink at her. She hadn’t pushed the plate in front of you, you weren’t going to dignify her with an answer. Haley pushes the plate in front of you.

“Answer,” Haley says. 

“A couple of months?” 

“A couple of months?!” Haley repeats and drops her head into her hands.

“It was after the divorce papers were signed,” you say like it defends your actions.

“A couple of months,” Haley repeats in disbelief. “And you haven’t slept with him?”

You blink at her. “What?”

“God, sleep with him already. His whole apartment smells like you, and your place reeks of him. Style wise, I’d recognise that photowall anywhere.” 

“What?” you repeat, surprised that Haley isn’t tearing you to shreds.

“I’m giving you full permission to sleep with my ex-husband, and when you do I want to know every measly detail.”

“Ew,” you and Crystal say in unison. 

“You heard me,” Haley smiles, leaning back on her chair. “We haven’t had anything in common to talk about in years. This is literally the best thing that’s happened to me in years.”

“This is your ex-husband we’re talking about, right?” you ask. “The one you can’t stand?”

“Uh huh,” Haley says. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll cry about it later.”

For the rest of the day you don’t do your paperwork. You just sit at your desk and stare into the distance, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Angel Maker chapter ahead!! ~  
> ~ 1/2 of Angel Maker ~

“Mom.” A pause. “Mom.” A pause. “Mom.”

You inch your eyes open to see Saskia, fully dressed, leaning over you, tapping your shoulder so lightly you can barely feel it. 

“What?” you mumble, slamming your face into your pillow. 

“I need to be at the bus by 4.30,” she hisses. You groan, rubbing at your eyes and turning to look at the clock. 4.15. Shit. You must’ve slept through your alarms. Saskia steps back as you shoot out of your bed, grabbing for your clothes.

“Coffee’s in the car already,” Saskia says as she leaves, throwing her bag by the door as she stomps around the living room. You stumble as you pull on your shoes--sweater over your shirt because there isn’t time to do up your buttons. 

She taps her foot dramatically, your go-bag in her arms, as you come out of the bedroom. She’s got the car keys in her mouth, her smile more a grimace. You can’t even be mad at her as you take the keys from her mouth and because she grins and it’s far too cute.

“Car,” you smile as you push her towards the front door. She doesn’t protest, just kicks her bag dramatically as she passes it and you pick it up, if only because she’s still carrying your bag. 

She throws everything into the back seat and practically runs to the front seat. You throw her bag in with the rest, then climb into the driver's seat. Saskia doesn’t speak the entire way to her school, typing away on your phone and honestly at that point you don’t care what she’s doing. You arrive at the bus with a minute to spare.

“None of your friends are awake,” Saskia grumbles, handing you your phone. You groan, looking down to see Saskia’s texted every single one of them. (Every. Single. One.)

“It’s half past four in the morning, of course they’re not awake.” You pick up your coffee, dropping your phone in the now empty cup holder. “You good to go, little lady?”

“Uh huh,” Saskia smiles. “I’ll text you when we get to debate.”

You tap your cheek and she leans over and kisses it lightly.

“Look after yourself,” you say as she jumps out the car, grabbing her stuff from the back seat.

“You too!” she yells, waving as she runs to the bus. 

There’s no point going home. Not when you’re dressed and you’ve downed half your coffee. You’re too buzzed to go back to bed (you’ll regret it later in the day, you’re sure). Instead you pull into your favourite diner, pulling out the book you always keep in the back seat (that you’ve never finished) and taking a seat in the window of the diner.

You’re there for an hour before there’s a light squeeze on your shoulder and Aaron slides into the seat next to you.

“What’re going doing up, handsome?” you smile, kissing him lightly. 

“Got a text,” he says, flipping out his phone. “It was quite nonsensical, and honestly I was a little worried until I realised it was Saskia’s doing. What’re you eating?”

“Nothing.” You snap your book shut, turning to him and trying desperately hard to hide the yawn that shudders your whole body. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him. 

He’s so warm. Your head falls to his shoulder and you’re barely conscious when he orders whatever he orders, chuckling to the waitress. You vaguely register when he reaches over and takes your book, flicking through the papers, and when the waitress puts the food down in front of you.

It’s only when Aaron shakes you softly, removing his arm from around your shoulders that you open your eyes in protest.

“Breakfast,” he says like you don’t know. 

“Pancakes?” 

“Always kept you going until after your exams.” And it did, genuinely. 

“Do you find out if you can come back to work today?” 

“Mhmm,” he responds through a mouthful. 

“Nervous?”

“Mhmm.”

You glance at him, running a hand through his hair. He smiles just a little. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

He looks at you like you’ve just melted his heart entirely. 

“That’s okay, but that’s very sweet.” He leans over and kisses your forehead. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

You watch him as he turns back to his food, actively avoiding looking at you. You reach over, running the back of your finger over his cheek and he leans into it. God, you have no idea what you would have done if you’d lost him.

He senses your sudden train of thought, dropping his fork to his plate and squeezing your thigh. He says nothing, and he doesn’t need to, it’s enough just to be together. You drop your head to his shoulder, smiling mostly to yourself. You’re pretty sure the waitress audibly says ‘aww’. 

“‘M going to miss this when you’re back at work.”

“Miss what?” he returns.

“Not hiding.”

He rests his ear on top of your head. “We can tell the team,” he offers.

“I’m not telling the team before I tell Saskia,” you respond like it’s repulsive. “And it’s not the team I’m worried about.”

“Strauss?” Aaron hisses her name like it’s a curse.

“Strauss,” you confirm. 

A chuckle ripples through his body and he squeezes your thigh before returning to his breakfast. 

***

“You’re cleared, right?” you ask, leaning up against the doorframe of Aaron’s office. He nods.

“Cleared for field work,” he says as he walks past you. You turn with him, keeping pace as you enter the conference room. There’s a chorus of greetings directed towards Hotch as he enters, everyone thankfully glossing over you as you drop into a chair. 

Lower Canaan. The Angelmaker. Copy Cat. Both a nightmare, but far too interesting. Far too interesting to turn down.

***

It’s not until the jet that you know something’s wrong. It’s the way Aaron sits, picks through the files delicately like fast movements will be the end of him. You only really start listening when Rossi frowns and asks, completely flatly:

“They have parachutes on-board, right?”

“They should,” Spence replies. “It’s standard on all federal air transports.” By the time you realise what Dave was going to say it’s too late.

“Maybe we can give on to the elephant in the room, get him out of here?” 

“That’d be the elephant with the dead man’s DNA,” Morgan says flatly.

“Well, obviously somebody planted the semen on the victim,” Aaron adds.

“IN the victim,” Morgan corrects.

“That’s easy enough to do if you’ve got the right equipment,” you add, earning a strained look from the team. You leave out the quip about a turkey baster that you’re tempted to make.

“That’s one theory,” Spencer theorises. “Think about who shares the exact DNA makeup of another person.”

“You’re not seriously floating around the idea of an evil twin, are you?” Morgan asks because he’s the only one not looking at him in genuine shock.

“No, I’m not. I’m floating the idea of an eviler twin. Traditionally, the concept is a good twin and an evil twin. But in this case, it’s evil twin, eviler twin.”

“Spence,” you say quietly, dropping a hand to his head. “Stop before you get demoted from ‘boy genius’.” The team’s blank faces back up your comment. His shoulders slump a little and you can’t help but smile at him. “Keep that idea, though, you could write a good book from it.” You squeeze his shoulder encouragingly and he seems to relax. 

You turn away, joining JJ who’s speaking excitedly about some baby clothes she’d bought on the weekend. You feel the back of your seat shift as Aaron shifts against it, dropping his head back, and you know something’s wrong. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

***

You’re changing into your pj’s when there’s a knock at your motel door. You hurriedly pull a spare sweater over your shirt, peering out the window. Emily. You open the door.

“You okay?”

“You know they made peep holes for a reason,” she says, pushing past you. “You have to talk to Hotch.”

She drops onto the edge of your bed, sighing dramatically. She holds your gaze then drops her head to her hands.

“I don’t know what you do, but I swear you’re the Hotch whisperer. We can tell him something a thousand times over, but you tell it to him once and he just.” She looks up and clicks her fingers. You lean against the wall.

“What’s up?”

“You’re not going to deny being the Hotch whisperer?”

“I do have a certain pull.” And you watch her frown. You and Aaron are pretty sure that the team know about your relationship (you doubt Morgan’s kept his mouth shut). But the way Emily’s looking at you, you think he might have done just that.

“He’s obviously not okay,” Emily says. “First the plane, then the cemetery--”

“What happened at the cemetery?” you prompt, taking a seat across from her.

“We were pulling up the casket and he almost collapsed. He was clutching at his ear, and genuinely, he looked… proper in pain.”

“He said he was cleared for field work,” you parry.

“We can all get cleared for field work if we answer the questions right,” Emily throws right back. You nod because she’s right. You know she’s right.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning,” you offer.

Emily nods. “Thanks.”

“Uh huh,” you smile. As she leaves you grab your phone, texting Aaron. 

You slip into his room at one, change of clothes under your arm. He looks around like you’re teenagers hoping not to get caught by your parents. He’s thrown a far too big t-shirt on over his boxers, and looks like you’ve raised him from sleep even though you both agreed to meet. 

“You said you were cleared for field work,” you say before you’ve even put your clothes down.

“I am,” he says quietly, defensively. You reach up, stroking his cheek, then take his hand, leading him towards the bed. He stands on attention before you tug him towards you lightly. 

“I’m not going to yell at you,” you whisper. “I’m just worried.” You pull him into your lap, wrapping your arms around him. “I love you, and I worry about you.”

He presses his forehead to yours and smiles. You kiss him lightly.

“What happened at the cemetery?” you ask. 

“Nothing.”

“Emily doesn’t think it was nothing.” 

“I’m okay.”

“Don’t lie to me, Aaron,” you drop your voice dangerously low. He tenses in your lap, a smirk ghosting over his face beneath the actual fear that had appeared over his face. 

“I just need to stay away from loud noises,” he says by admission of guilt.

“And the jet,” you add. “I’m serious about that.”

“I know.”

You squeeze him tightly, pressing your face to his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Sleep?” you offer. 

Aaron makes a moaning noise and nods. He pushes you onto the mattress, grabbing your legs as he does so and drags you up with him. It’s far too hard for both of you to get under the covers, both of you shrouded in quiet giggles because the walls are thin and Morgan’s right next door.

Once you are, Aaron wraps you up in his arms, limbs tangling together. He laces his fingers in yours, burying his nose in the back of your neck.

“You need to drive home when this case is over,” you tell him, squeezing his hand. He hums into your neck. “Promise me,” you order, jamming your foot into his shin.

“Ow!” Aaron squeaks. “I promise. I’ll drive back.”

“Night, Aaron,” you sigh, running your foot down his shin and intertwining it with his legs. He tightens his grip on you, face pressed so hard into the back of your neck so hard you’re sure he’s going to suffocate in his sleep.

“G’night,” he says, pressing a kiss to your neck. And then he’s out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ t'was only short for today ~


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ The Angel Maker 2/2 ~

You wake as Aaron's trying to untangle himself from your limbs in the early morning light. You groan in protest as his body heat leaves you. 

"Ten more minutes," you protest as you reach back for him. He catches your hand, squeezing your fingers lightly. 

"I have to get dressed," he says as he leans down and presses a kiss to the nape of your neck. You roll your head and watch him as he grabs his suit, heading to the bathroom.

"You've got a cute butt," you tease and he blushes, closing the bathroom door. 

When he comes out of the bathroom you're only just awake enough to roll out of bed. Spence and Morgan are jogging on the spot outside, debating what path they should take on their morning jog. 

"I don't think you can sneak out," Aaron teases, squeezing your neck lightly as he passes. 

"I told Emily I'd talk to you this morning," you tell him. "No sneaking out needed." 

Aaron gasps playfully, "someone should hire you as a spy. So sneaky."

"You wish," you smile against his lips as you stand. "I'd make a fucking good spy. Double-oh-seven, eat your heart out." 

Aaron chuckles, kissing you softly. "James Bond? Isn't he wanted by a couple of countries?" 

"Probably," you grin, nose to nose.

"I don't know if my heart could handle that."

"You're very sweet." 

"I've heard rumours."

When you come out of the shower, Aaron's pacing while on your phone. He looks like he's pretty stressed until he looks up, a grin on his face, and holds a finger up in a 'wait' kind of way.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," he smiles as he says it. “Your Mom’s here, do you want to talk to her?” There’s a pause and then, “yeah, yeah, I'll talk to her.” He hands you the phone. “It’s her royal highness, Saskia.” 

You mock gasp. “An honour to be called upon.” He drops a kiss to your lips, then turns away, pulling out the case files. You roll your eyes and drop to the mattress. “Hello, my little miss. How’s debate?”

“Fun,” she says quickly. “G’dad said you’re on a case.”

“I am,” you confirm. There’s a pause and you know she’s gearing up to ask you a favour. Hotch squeezes your arm as he throws the files onto the bed behind you, kneeling next to you as he flicks through the sheets.

“If you’re at a case, can I stay at Emily’s for a week? It’s school holidays!” You can hear Emily chattering in the background and it’s very obvious that they’ve been planning it for a while. You let the silence stew until Saskia adds: “Auntie Diane said it’s fine! Here, here.”

There’s shuffling, then the phone changes hands. Aaron leans into you and you smile at him, rubbing his back.

“Hey, Y/N,” Diane says. “I can watch the girls for a couple of nights. They’re sold on a sleepover.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” you counter and pray that she doesn’t retrace her steps and send Saskia home. But then she waves you off (you know, because she makes this weird tutting sound that she always makes). 

“It’s Em’s party on Friday night and I need to be in Quantico on Sunday night for a work conference anyway, it’s not out of the way.” 

You look at your wrist even though you’re not wearing a watch. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” It’s so forceful that you’re almost taken aback.

“Alight, sounds good then,” and you smile. There’s a rush of voices then Saskia and Emily screaming that they love you. “Love you guys too.” 

When you hang up Aaron does nothing but smirk. “Bamboozled?”

“Bamboozled,” you confirm. “Your shirt is going to crease,” you tell him quietly, twisting so you can look at the files too. 

“Alright, Mom,” he says sarcastically. You lean down and kiss his temple.

“You have a team to look after, and a grumpy face to put on if only to convince Emily that I really did talk to you this morning.”

“You did talk to me in the morning. It was passed midnight.”

You nudge his shoulder with your knee. “Don’t be smart.” 

“But it’s my job,” he whines playfully, rolling far too dramatically at your nudge. 

“Look after yourself, okay?” you say, dropping beside him. 

“M’kay,” he responds, pecking your lips lightly.

***

It’s the kids room that throws you off your game, if only for a breath. The glow-in-the-dark stars over the ceiling (thanking yourself that you’d never let Saskia buy them), but the dead body in the trunk had to be the next. You genuinely think you might throw up looking at it, if only because she’d willingly brought it into her house. 

But ultimately it’s the stand off. Knowing that the killer’s inside and all you can do is let Morgan inside, and distract Chloe from outside. It’s the longest waiting game of your life, as Emily reads out the letters that make your skin crawl. It’s when Chloe comes out, raises her gun and it’s straight at Aaron and god damn if you don’t feel bad when both you and the Sheriff shoot. On either side of Aaron. 

Who keels over, almost immediately, clutching at his ear. Rossi gives you a look, breaking from the team as you nod at Emily to go forward. Rossi’s scolding him as he grips Aaron’s wrist and you’re beyond grateful. When the team’s distracted Rossi beckons you over. 

Like it’s completely natural, Dave hands Aaron off to you, squeezing your shoulder. Aaron groans as his head falls into your shoulder, hand gripping at his ear. There’s nothing you can do but press a hand to his head and lead him away from the police cars. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, stroking the back of his head. Both an apology for him being in pain, and for causing it. He groans and all you can do is continue stroking the back of his head. When his groans drop off substantially you look back at the team, who are still occupied, and grip his wrist, pulling his hand away softly.

“Let me see,” you prompt. He shakes his head but you’re already working your fingers under his hand, peeling it away. You actually sigh when there’s no visual injury. “You’re okay,” you say for both your benefits. 

“It hurts,” Aaron groans, and then his hand flies to his ear again, clutching at it so hard you think he might actually rip his ear off. 

“I know, I know,” you soothe, stroking his hair softly. “Let’s get you back to the motel.” 

Thankfully, he doesn’t fight. You guide him back to the car, arms wrapped around his shoulders because you’re sure that he’s going to collapse if you let go of him. Rossi nods when you get Hotch into the car, giving you a small thumbs up. 

Aaron’s worse than Saskia when she’s sick on the way back. He’s just curled against the seat, clutching at his ear, whimpering every time he pulls his hand away. You reach over and squeeze his knee because it’s all you can do. 

You don’t bother pretending to go to your room. The team aren’t there and they all know you both left together. He’s still grumpy as he sheds his jacket, tie, and goes to the shower. You dig through his go bag until you find something that looks comfortable (another oversized t-shirt and you wonder if Aaron purposefully purchased them big) and you strip, pulling his t-shirt on instead. 

“You don’t have to stay,” he grumbles as he comes out, mouth slightly agape when he realises you’re wearing his shirt.

“I’m staying.” You respond definitively. “Does it feel better?” 

“No,” he mewls as he drops onto the bed. You climb onto the mattress, leaning up against the headboard and guiding his head to your lap. He doesn’t protest, wrapping his arms under your legs. 

You run your nails through his hair until he stops his little in-pain twitches. 

“Are we driving home tomorrow?” you whisper. He raises his head from your lap.

“We?” 

“Mhmm. We,” you confirm. He smiles at you and you cup his face. “You’re not driving for over seven hours on your own.” He opens his mouth in a protest you both know would be void and you press a finger to his lips. “We’re driving home tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he says, kissing your finger. His head falls back to your lap and you can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since he’s been intimate with anyone. Intimate in every meaning. 

You both fall asleep like that, Aaron’s head in your lap, your head falling against the headboard. Aaron wakes when the team come back, and you’re barely aware when he bundles you up in his arms, holding you against his chest, and kisses your temple.

***

Thankfully, no one sees you sneak out of Aaron’s room in the early morning. Although, Rossi does catch you as you’re hauling your go-bag out of your motel room. 

“Is he okay?” Rossi asks. You drop your bag to the ground and nod.

“We’re going to drive back, I don’t trust him not to drive it all in one go. Seven hours is a long time.”

“Saskia?” 

“She’s at a friend’s house.”

Rossi clasps your shoulder. You’re not entirely sure what he wants to say as he clenches his jaw. Then he pulls you in for a quick hug.

“Use the kid free time wisely,” he says into your ear and you feel the blush that doesn’t even CREEP it just freaking slams into your face full force. Then he picks up your go-bag and throws it into the car. “Got a car lined up?”

“Mhmm, and someone to drive it back when we’re back home.”

“The team know?” 

You shake your head, no, in response. “Not my space to tell.”

And Rossi smirks at you. You wish you could wipe that look off his face. 

At the police station Morgan has his arm thrown over your shoulder while he takes the absolute piss out of Spencer. Every now and then you elbow his ribs a little too forcefully to get him to stop. 

“Anyone got directions back to the airstrip?” JJ asks as she joins. You make a dramatic ‘this way then that way’ arm movement and Morgan shrugs.

“The town’s only got one road. We’ll find it.”

“Morgan doesn’t like to follow directions,” Prentiss says sourly and you drop out from under Morgan’s arm before he can ask you to back him up. “You didn’t know about that?”

“He likes to vibe it,” Spencer says with the cheekiest grin on his face. 

“Ok, Smart Ass, you drive.” 

You raise an eyebrow at Aaron as Morgan throws the keys to Spencer. He smiles at you softly and nods, and you reach into the back to get both your bags. Spencer turns to look at you from the driver’s seat.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you smile, kiss your fingers and press them to his hair. He literally beams at that. “Don’t let Morgan tell you how to drive, got it?”

“Got it.”

“You’re not coming?” Rossi asks Aaron like you both didn’t have that conversation that morning.

“I, uh, I think I’m gonna drive,” Aaron responds and you drop his bag by his feet. 

“It’s over seven hours to Quantico,” Emily protests and you almost glare at her.

“I really shouldn’t be flying,” Aaron says and you touch his wrist lightly with two fingers.

“I’ve done that drive before,” Rossi says as Emily walks away and you make an effort not to look at Aaron and Dave. “You’ll see a lot of pretty country along the byways. You might consider… stretching it out a day or two. I hear you’ve got some nice company who might appreciate some of the cabins and hiking trails.” 

You physically force yourself not to stamp on Dave's foot. But Aaron hooks his pinkie around yours and squeezes it lightly. 

“Maybe I will. Thanks.” Aaron says softly and shakes Dave’s hand. You both watch the team drive away before Aaron laces his fingers in yours and pulls you into his side. “I hear you’re nice company,” he teases. 

“Mhmm,” you say with the sweetest smile you can muster. “I’m alright.”

“We don’t have to be back until Sunday,” he says as he picks up both your bags. 

“That’s three days away.”

“Heck yeah it is.”

You smirk at him, looping your arm in his. “Did you just say heck?” you tease, poking his ribs, and he kisses your temple.

“Mhmm.”

***

It’s barely mid afternoon when Aaron pulls into a quaint little collection of log cabins. You’ve obviously slept through him collecting the key because he just rolls out of the car, and is immediately through the door without much thought. You grab your bags, following him in.

“Town’s about twenty minutes away,” he says as he looks in the bathroom. “I figured an early dinner?”

“Only if you’re paying,” you tease, tossing the bags onto a chair.

“It’s a date.”

“I don’t think we’ve had one of those yet,” you grin. He’s across the room, wrapping his arms around your waist, and he presses his nose to yours.

“We had breakfast.”

“That’s not a date, Hotchner. That was organised by my daughter.”

“Do you want to go on a date?” he asks quietly.

“Are you asking?”

He makes a quiet ‘mhmm’ noise that makes your stomach flutter.

“I will gladly go on a date with you.”

“I’ll pick you up in… two minutes?”

“So soon?” you pout. He smirks and kisses you.

“Couldn’t wait.” He shakes the keys and twists you, pushing you back out the door. “You look really pretty.”

You pinch his thigh and snatch the keys from him. “I’m wearing my work clothes.”

“Really pretty,” he responds, adding a kiss for effect, then climbs into the passenger seat. 

You like this Aaron.

Laid back.

Teasing.

Playful.

And he likes you back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ I'm not going to promise uninterrupted smut in the future, but that's exactly what I'm promising. ~


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~badly written smut lies ahead~  
> ~enter with caution~

Dinner was the softest meal you’ve ever had in your life. The only place that was open for dinner was a small, old, building that served nothing worth eating other than the entrees. Aaron had sat across from you as you both shared a bowl of chips, herb bread (close to garlic, only they were out of garlic bread) and salt ‘n’ pepper squid. He’d slid his hand across the table, intertwining his fingers in yours. 

You’d taken a short walk after dinner, if only because Aaron was pretty sure he’d lost the keys and you loved watching him squirm without admitting it until you produced the key from your back pocket. 

“You’re trouble,” he chuckles, wrapping his arm around your waist and drawing you into his side. 

“You like me,” you giggle. 

“I do?” he gasps, kissing you as you both reach the car. 

“I think so,” you giggle against his lips and he rolls his eyes.

“Do you want to drive?” he says, hovering the keys just out of reach. You bunch his shirt in your hands and pull him closer. 

"Not really," you say when you're close enough to kiss him. He grins, closing the distance and kissing you slowly. "That was a nice date," you smile into him. 

"You're a nice date to be with," he counters. 

"Smooth," you grin. 

You're both like teenagers on the way back to the cabin. Your hands, lips, and teeth, find themselves anywhere that would distract Aaron while he's driving without killing you both. You crawl your hand up his thigh, tracing the inseam of his pants, wandering dangerously close to his bulge. His eyes widen when you keep going, snatching it and lifting it to his mouth. He kisses your hand lazily as he pulls into the car park.

"I love you," he grins against your knuckles. 

"Mhmm?” you smile at him, eyes softening. He pulls the keys out the ignition and leans over to you, hand curling over the back of your neck, pulling you into him. He kisses you slowly, tongue tracing over your lips. You let him in, leaning into him because you literally can’t get closer.

When you pull away for air Aaron lingers that little bit closer, not quite touching, breathing each other's air. He brings a hand to your cheek, brushing it lightly. 

“Do you want to go inside?” he whispers at long last. You hum against his lips, pulling away despite his tiny protests. 

You’re barely through the door when Aaron has his arms wrapped around you, lips at your neck. You stumble slightly as he twists you around in his arms, kicking the door shut, and crushing your lips to his. 

Your knees collapse as you reach the mattress, Aaron catching the back of your head before it slams back. He sucks at your neck, nose nuzzling against your jaw. A gasp escapes you, just a little, as Aaron peppers kisses across your shoulder. He returns to your neck, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth.

“Do you want to…?” he trails off, pulling up to look at your face. 

“Have sex?” you finish, bringing a hand up to his stomach. 

“I do if you do,” he says with little puppy dog eyes.

“I want to hear you say it, properly,” you respond, arching up against him. Maybe that wasn’t fair because you watch his eyes flutter softly.

“I want to have sex with you.”

“And I want to have sex with you.” 

Aaron nods softly. But the soft is lost as you both make quick work of your clothes, tossing them to the floor. You bite your lip as you look at Aaron, running your finger down his bare chest, tracing patterns in his skin. He smirks as he leans down once more, capturing your lips in one of the most passionate kisses you’ve experienced in your life.

“Love you,” he mumbles against your lips, peppering kisses over your cheek, kissing at your neck, sucking at the soft skin on your neck before soothing it with his tongue. 

“Aaron,” you breathe, his mouth moving down your chest. He sucks on the top of your breast, nippling lightly, your hand finding his hair as he tongues at your nipple. He hums against you, sucking at the underside of your breast, before kissing down your stomach.

And, fuck, does he kiss. You can’t remember a time where you’ve been so excited just from anticipation. He kisses your inner thigh, grinning at you as you rock into thin air, your mind blank. The only thing you can think about is Aaron, his mouth, and Aaron, the thoughts echoing in your mind.

His breath ghosts against your core and your breath catches. Aaron smirks, placing a hand on your stomach lightly as he licks up your folds, brushing lightly at your clit.

“Aaron,” you moan. He hums against you, the vibrations coursing through your body. His hands splay against your stomach, his fingers curling back into a fist. He slips a finger between your folds as he kitten licks at you. You lace your fingers into his hair, tugging at his hair lightly. 

He moves his head, looking up at you, curling his finger. Your eyes flutter, a soft moan escaping your lips, even when you bite down on your lip to muffle it. He slips a second finger inside you, pumping slowly. Your head falls back, throwing a hand over your mouth before you can make too much noise.

Aaron chuckles against you, and your body reacts immediately, bucking into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Aaron,” you moan. He chuckles again and your orgasm smashes into you like a truck. He strokes you through it, watching you through large, lustful, eyes. He comes back up to you, kissing you slowly. It’s involuntary when you moan against him, back arching. 

“Fuck me,” you moan into his lips, meaning it both ways. He nods, sucking at your neck as he slides into you. The moans that escape you are ungodly, and Aaron’s not much better as he rests inside you, eyes flicking over your face.

“Love you,” he says as he drops his face to your neck again.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your breath quickening as he thrusts slowly. Your hand flies to your mouth as you moan, but Aaron grabs your wrist, pinning it to the pillow beside you.

“I want to hear it,” he says into your neck and, fuck, does he hear it. You’re beyond glad that you're in some strangely remote cabin. He’s moaning into your ear in tandem, biting his lip as he buries his face into your neck. 

All sense of time is lost as pleasure rocks through you, Aaron’s name ghosting across your lips as he cums with you. And, god, does it feel nice. You whine softly as he leaves you, pressing a kiss lightly to your lips. He comes back with a towel, cleaning up the mess you both made before sliding into bed, drawing you to his chest. 

You say nothing, tracing circles on his chest. He nuzzles into your hair. After a while he strokes your hair.

“I’ve thought about doing that for a long time,” he says into your hair.

“Me too,” you admit and he holds you tighter.

You fall asleep like that, knowing that you’ll regret it in the morning when you’ve both got sore necks. But right now, you don’t care.


	20. Chapter 20

You wake only because Aaron's shifted, burying his nose into your hair, his chest spasming periodically. 

"Aaron?" You mumble, voice thick with sleep. He strokes at your hair, sniffling.

"Sorry," he mumbles back. When you try to move your head he holds it down lightly, hand at the back of your neck, mouth pressed to your hair. 

"What's wrong?" You ask, brow furrowing. You scratch lightly at his chest, twirling circles.

"I was thinking about New York," he confesses, his fingers curling against the back of your head. "How-h-" 

You nuzzle into his chest, kissing it lightly as he shudders and pulls you closer. 

"The last thing we could have ever done is hold hands," his voice cracks and, hell, does your heart crack with it. "Would've never gotten this." 

"But we're here," you counter. "And it didn't happen." 

"It almost did." 

"It didn't." But now all you're thinking about is having the last image of Aaron being the one where he folds like a ragdoll. Flying away from the SUV. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze him. 

"You're okay with that?" He whispers. 

"Okay with being alive? Yeah." But he squeezes your shoulders and you know that's not what he meant. "Of course I'm not okay with it. But we're here, now, and we're making up for it." 

He finally loosens his grip on the back of your neck and you raise your head, tapping his chest until he looks at you. 

"I love you and we're here," you smile, raising yourself to your knees and straddling his chest. "We learn from the mistakes we survive." 

You cup his face as you kiss him, painstakingly slow and meaningfully, pushing his hair back. His hands land on your hips, fingers squeezing lightly.

"When's checkout?" you whisper against his lips, kissing over his jawline. 

"Ten," he breathes as you suck at the hollow of his throat. You hum, moving down his body as you kiss down his chest.

"Plenty of time," you say into his skin, nipping at his ribs. It’s Aaron’s turn to lose all sense of grounding, save for your name on his lips, as you kiss down his stomach, following his treasure trail. 

You take his length in your hand, stroking gently as he twitches in your hand. You smirk, licking up his length before taking him in your mouth. Hearing him moan was worth every moment. His hand finds your hair as you bob, taking him as far as you can. He bucks against you and for a second you choke, placing a hand against his hips to keep him still.

He showers you with apologies as you hollow out your cheeks, coming up and swirling your tongue around his head. You glance up at him, smiling at his blissed out face. He smiles at you, stroking your hair lightly. 

“Come ‘ere,” he says, voice husky. You give him one last tongue swirl before coming off him with a noisy, sloppy, ‘pop’. You crawl up him, kissing him as his hands wander over your body. You line yourself up with him, lowering yourself on him. 

Your eyes flutter shut, a moan escaping you when you’re fully seated. 

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes, fingers brushing over your abdomen. Your body responds to the compliment, Aaron smirking smugly at you. “You good?”

“Give me a moment,” you breathe, your hands falling to his chest to ground yourself. He snakes his fingers down your stomach, ghosting over your hips, whispering kind, sweet words of encouragement that you’re barely listening to.

You rock, taking his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together as you pin it to the mattress. His other hand comes to your clit, rubbing light circles until you change your angle, pressing into his fingers. 

A flush of pleasure courses through your body and you fall flush against him, squeezing at his hand on the sheets. He smiles, kissing your cheek with soft moans until you move, capturing his lips with yours. You both muffle each other’s moans, the only other sounds in the cabin the slapping of skin against skin.

He hits the right spot and a high pitched moan escapes you, failing to muffle it against his mouth. Aaron’s too far gone to smirk, his eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back. Fuck he’s pretty. 

His moans rise in pitch as you speed up, hand pulsing against yours as he tries to squeeze it. He twitches inside you, mouth opening but no noise comes out. 

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, dropping your head to his neck. “Let go, sweet.” 

He whimpers, nodding into your shoulder. You cup the back of his head, stroking it lightly, and he does something--something--to you that has you clenching around him, orgasm shaking through you. He makes tiny little noises amongst his own orgasm, almost whimpering.

He kisses your shoulder as you both come down from your highs. You hum into his neck, not wanting to move yet knowing that you have to. He squeezes your hand, licks his other one clean, cups your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters, slipping out of you. You whimper at the loss of him and he chuckles. “Shower?” he asks, rolling you off him and sitting up.

“I just need a minute,” you respond, closing your eyes. He brushes the hair from your face and drops a kiss to your forehead. 

“Okay,” he smiles.

***

You make triple sure that you’ve taken your birth control as you twirl the shitty road map from the gas station in your hand. Aaron’s had a soft smile on his face all day, sometimes turning to you just to smile. 

“Not to ruin the bliss,” you sigh, using the map as a fan. “But I’m pretty sure we have to tell Strauss now.” 

Aaron groans. “Do we though?”

You glare at him. “Yes. We both know we do.”

“Yeah. But not for another three days.” He smiles at you and reaches out a hand for you to take. You’re still glaring at him as you take it. “Anything you want to do on the way home?” 

“Buy condoms.” 

Aaron chuckles. “Anything else?” 

You trace your thumb over his knuckles. “Talk. There’s a lot I haven’t told you.”

“Like what?”

“Like the three years I didn’t talk to you, or Hales, or like a--after,” you take a deep breath. “After Felix.”

You know he knows that you don’t mean after the funeral. You mean directly after, when he’d seen you coming out of your house, Saskia clutched to your chest (completely oblivious), covered in blood. How you’d handed Saskia to Haley only to collapse in a blood curdling scream that you’d seen played on the news over and over again. Thankfully, the police barriers had blocked Haley and Aaron from that news footage. 

“We don’t need to,” he says softly. “It was a hard time for you.”

“I shouldn’t have just left.”

“You went into WITSEC, yes? It’s not like you could have popped by to catch up.” He squeezes your hand. “You did what you needed to do.”

“You guys were unquestionably there for me and then one day I just fucked off. I didn't even turn up when Jack was born.” 

“A wise, beautiful, lady once told me that we learn from the mistakes we survive, you should take that advice,” he throws a small smile in your direction. “You protected your family. That’s what you needed to do, I can’t blame you for that.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. He raises your hand to his lips, kissing it. “Felix and I weren’t… we were getting a divorce.” The confession rolls out of you and Aaron just nods. “White Lily just got… intense. There was… I don’t know. Everything was going wrong. I guess we just didn’t love each other anymore. I don’t… I dunno, I just feel gross about it. And I never… I never told you.”

“I didn’t need to know,” he says quietly. “It all brought you here.”

“I wasn’t going to take the job, at the BAU.”

“That’s a different kind of confession,” he teases. “What made you change your mind?”

“The chip shop.” You turn to him just in time to see him raise his eyebrows. “I remember thinking I’d done enough insides of court rooms for a lifetime, enough paperwork to bury myself in, and then I thought about doing it all again. Because of all that passion. I dunno, everyone just seemed so happy. Despite the job.”

“No one was happy on that case.”

“And yet you all found each other at the end of the day.”

Aaron humfs but he smiles. “I’m glad you joined the team.”

“Me too.”

“What really made you take the job?” 

“The fact that you’re all a tiny little family. I felt like I’d be letting Spencer down if   
I didn’t fill out that form after he gave me my laptop.”

Aaron hums. “Spencer’s hard to let down.”

“Tell me about it,” you laugh. “He’s a sweet kid.”

“You’ve practically adopted him.”

“He’s easy to adopt,” you smile as you run a finger over his knuckles. “They all are.”

“You joined the team because everyone was easy to adopt,” he accuses with a raised eyebrow.

“Guilty as charged.”

“Do we tell the work kids or our home kids about us first?” 

A question that you have to think about. “Are the work kids going to keep their mouths shut?”

Aaron scrunches up his face. “Probably not.”

“Morgan and Garcia have.” And Aaron’s head snaps to you. “Garcia’s known since I got buried alive. Morgan’s known since New York.”

“Why didn’t I know?”

“Because sometimes the kids like one of their parents better than the other one. And I’m the likable one because I don’t have to tell them off.” You lean over and kiss his cheek.

“That’s fair.”

“You have Prentiss and Morgan, I have Garcia and… Spence, somedays.”

“And JJ? Rossi?”

“JJ’s the perfect child that has no favourites. Dave’s your ex-wife.” 

“Nice.”

“Wanna stop for lunch?” you ask, pointing out the window. 

“Wanna answer my question?”

“Can we decide over lunch?”

He kisses your knuckles. “Yeah. We can decide which kids to tell over an over priced sandwich.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> work kids vs home kids are always the priority.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! Small ! Chapter ! Ahead !

You drop the shopping bags onto the table, unpacking the ingredients for dinner. Aaron had insisted he was fine but you'll be damned if you didn't notice his turn after lunch. How he favoured his ear, tried to stay awake as you drove. But the moment he'd fallen to the couch he'd been asleep. 

The town had been tiny and cute. You'd bought gag gifts for the team, a couple of soft toys for Saskia and Jack, and a cute lil yellow sundress because you were sick of wearing your work clothes and it's so warm outside.

You're halfway through dinner when Aaron wraps his arms around your waist, kissing the back of your neck. 

"This smells incredible," he smiles against your skin.

"It’s almost ready. You're sounding better."

"I feel better," he hums into your neck, nudging you with his nose. “Thank-you.”

“For what?” You turn to him, abandoning dinner for the time being. “It’s literally just pasta.” 

“Coming with me,” he finishes, kissing your nose. “Making sure I didn’t drive home all in one go.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Everybody needs time off at some point. But I am going to get some paperwork done after dinner.” 

"Sounds enthralling."

"Doesn't it?" You say through mock amusement. 

***

When you close your laptop, pushing it as far away from you as possible, Aaron grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap. 

"How was your paperwork?" He says as he rests his chin on your shoulder, still enthralled with whatever he'd been watching on the TV for the last two hours.

"Very paperworky," you respond, lacing your fingers with his. "Had a couple of emails from the team. Food recommendations from Dave." 

"Mmmmmmm. Enthralling." 

"What're you watching?" 

"I've got no idea," he chuckles. "I think… they're vampires? They've kidnapped some chick or something. It's a bunch of teens that look Spencer's age." 

"We would've gotten away with so much in highschool if we'd been hot." 

"Like being a vampire?" 

"Oh my gosh, wait, no, this is Vampire Diaries." He makes this grunting noise like 'see I'm right'. "That's Elena and she looks like Katherine but Katherine's Stefan's ex or something but from forever ago. And Stefan has a crazy hot brother."

"And how do you know about all this?"

"JJ, Garcia, Prentiss and I have been taking turns taping it and watching it at each other's houses." 

"Don't vampires turn into bats? Where are the bats?" 

You chuckle, squeezing his hand. "Bats have been long forgotten, old man." 

"You're literally my age, you have no room to be calling me old." 

"You're a very pretty old man," you tease, resting your head on his. "But never mention bats and vampires in the same sentence ever again." 

"Got it." 

***  
.  
It becomes incredibly obvious that you both have to return to real life tomorrow. It’s the softness, lingering touches, the fact that it’s almost two in the morning and you’re still in Aaron’s lap. One of his hands on you hip, the other kneading softly at your breast. Your head in his neck, sucking at his shoulder, creating brand new hickeys among the myriad that decorated his body. Aaron’s not much better, latched to your own neck like you’re two teens at Bible camp.

You roll in his lap, smirking as his legs twitch beneath you, his hands squeezing at your body. You trace your nails down his chest under his shirt, a tingle running through you as he looses a long, breathy, sigh into your neck. 

“I don’t want to go back to normal,” Aaron whines and you find yourself smiling through threatening tears.

“Me neither,” you whisper, nuzzling into his neck. He wraps his arms completely around you, squeezing you tightly. God, if he squeezes any tighter you might actually cry. “But we’ll be okay, you know that right?”

“Yeah but I have to share you,” he whines once more and you giggle.

“Heck yeah you have to share me,” you say into his ear. He shudders softly as you tug his earlobe between your teeth. “But you don’t have to share me tonight.”

“Mmm, no I do not.” 

You were both surely going to regret it tomorrow after you fill the night with couch sex, kitchen sex, shower sex, a nap or two, more sex, and the sun comes up and you both become far too aware that you’re returning home. Aaron pulls you into his arms in the early morning light, stroking your hair, humming quietly. 

“We’ll figure something out,” he says quietly as he winds your hair around his fingers. 

“Hm?” you raise your head, resting your chin on his chest. 

“Everything’ll be fine.”

“Aaron? What’re you worried about?”

“I don’t want you to leave just because I couldn’t keep it in my pants.”

“It takes two to tango,” you say, dropping a kiss to his chest. “Strauss’ll just chuck me with another team. I think SSA Greenland’s looking for another agent.”

“Greenland’s a misogynistic bastard who’d only let you work for him so he can bend you over his desk.”

You frown at him, realising that he’s being completely serious. “There’s only one FBI agent I’d let bend me over their desk and he happens to be under me right now.” Aaron smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I love you, okay? No matter what happens. My love isn’t dependent on who I work for.” You brush his cheek with your fingertips. He grins a little and kisses them lightly.

“You’d let me bend you over my desk?”

You smirk and nod. “If the security cameras weren’t watching.”

“Huh. I’ll keep that in mind.”


	22. Chapter 22

“I don’t care,” Strauss says as she throws a manilla folder in your direction. 

It takes all your training not to stare at her with an open mouth. You’ve just broken to her that you and Aaron are together, and she’s acting like it isn’t against the rules. 

“Do you want my transfer papers?”

“No,” she says without looking up. “Can you keep it professional?”

“Well, yeah,” you say, hugging your transfer papers and Strauss’s discarded folder to your chest. “But it is against the rules.”

“Since when have you been a stickler for rules?” she pulls her glasses down her nose as she looks up at you. “You’re literally sleeping with your boss. The third time, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Okay, no, this is--technically--the first time. I was married to my boss, sure, and Detective Harden wasn’t my boss; he just… outranked me.” Which, technically, he did until the director of the FBI promoted you so he didn’t have to keep signing paperwork that Harden wouldn’t sign.

Strauss just blinks like she’s made her point. “If it bothers you that much I can make you a permanent consultant for the BAU. But you should know romantic relationships between senior agents isn’t against code, it’s just against code if you show it at work.”

“I’m not a senior agent?” because you’re not, right, that was the whole point of stepping down. Strauss just shakes her head, puts her glasses back on, and returns to her paperwork. 

You’re mostly back to the bullpen before you twirl on your heel, storming back into Strauss’s office.

“Is someone blackmailing you to keep me on the team?”

“What?” she tears her glasses from her face, glasses and pen falling to her paperwork.

“If I was anyone else you’d be putting me on suspension, or tearing me a new one, or chucking me on Greenland’s team before I could breathe. The whole team would be under investigation or something, and I know you’ve got it out for them--”

“I don’t--”

“And you would have threatened me with suspension for that whole outburst I just had.” You take a deep breath, blinking at her. “When I applied for this job you told me I was an asset to the Bureau. I’m not any better at my job than anyone else in this building, so why am I still here?”

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” Strauss says. “You’ve closed cases alone that agents here wouldn’t close as a team. We need that kind of energy around here.”

“Okay,” you say, trying not to frown. You drop the files onto your desk as you get into the bullpen, running a hand through your hair. 

“Everything okay?” Spencer asks. “You look stressed. Y’know when you’re stress your body--”

“Spence,” you snap, before raising a hand to your forehead. “I’m fine.”

“Why’d you have to speak to Strauss?” 

Hotch taps at his window, catching your attention. You sigh, nodding at him, and ruffle Spencer’s hair as you pass him, up the stairs into Aaron’s office.

“When do we want to speak to Strauss?” he asks as he reorganises his desk, trying to look busy.

“I already have,” you confess. “She didn’t care.”

“What?” he says, mostly in shock. “She didn’t care?”

“She wanted to know if we could keep it professional, and when I said yes, she just. She let me stay.”

You both stare at each other, not quite believing it. 

“So we… keep it professional?” he asks, rubbing at his hair before soothing it back down. “We can do that.”

“It feels like a trap.”

“Absolutely,” Aaron agrees. “So when do we tell the team?”

“Tell us what?” You both jump at Morgan’s voice, who’s somehow opened the door without either of you noticing. 

“Nothing,” you both say far too quickly. 

“Rossi’s got called away for something, he wants to know if you’ll cover his lecture with Reid.” Morgan bites his lip and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him do that before. 

“Yeah, easy,” you smile, nodding. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world to write up a lecture on the spot. Although, with Reid, it might actually be. Morgan nods, backing out of the room and closing the door softly. 

“Have fun…?” Aaron says with a smirk.

“Best day ever!” you squeak playfully, following Morgan out of the room.

***

“Is there something going on with you and Hotch?” Spencer asks, wringing his hands as you descend the steps outside the lecture hall.

“Hmm?” you say, turning your head to him like you hadn’t heard.

“I-I know before New York you two were on edge but, you’ve both been acting weird since we closed the Angel Maker Copycat.” He bites his lip and shakes his head. “I just worry that you’re going to move teams.”

“Spence?” 

“Y’know only you and JJ call me ‘Spence’.”

When you reach the bottom of the stairs you grab Spencer’s wrist, pulling him out of the way of students.

“I’m not moving teams,” you tell him. “And Hotch and I are fine.”

“That’s wh… what my parents--”

“Spence,” you say with all the emotion you can muster. “We’re not your parents” (softly, because that could sound harsh) “we’re fine. Better than fine.”

“But what kind of fine?”

“Neither of us are leaving the team, that kind of fine.” 

“You guys went from so close to…” he shrugs. For a boy-genius-profiler he really can be thick sometimes. “We all thought you’d drive Hotch back after New York but then Morgan did?”

“They needed to talk,” you offer him a smile. “We didn’t take three days coming back from Lower Canaan just to be not okay.” He looks at you with large eyes and, hell, if he didn’t look like a wounded kid. “We’re peachy.”

“That’s what you told Prentiss in New York.”

“Spence,” you laugh lightly and rub his arm. “There’s no problems between Hotch and I.”

“It’s weird when you call him Hotch.”

“Aaron,” you correct, “and I are seeing each other. That’s why I had to see Strauss this morning.”

“Really?!” his face immediately lights up. You roll your eyes, guiding him out of the building by his shoulder. “I thought Morgan was joking. Does Saskia know?”

“No,” you side eye him as the two of you exit, sliding passed students trying to read their schedules. “And you can’t tell her until I do.”

“Y’know, she’s actually quite a bright kid, she’s working two grades above her current grade but she struggles in a classroom setting--”

“She’s a bright kid because you’ve been tutoring her non-stop, and she struggles in a classroom setting because she’s got a genius teaching her everything she needs to know ever and that upsets her teacher’s, who are dumb.”

Spencer’s face splits into the brightest smile. “Wait, does the team know?”

“Not yet, we’re trying to figure out the best time.”

“Make sure it’s in a bar,” Spencer says, clutching at his satchel. 

“Why?”

“I’m pretty sure Prentiss owes everyone a round.”

You grin, press a kiss to your fingers and press them to his temple. Spencer just looks at you, and the whole way back he’s got a cute little bounce to his step, and even Morgan and Prentiss comment on his good mood. And, thankfully, he doesn’t say anything.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jumps up and down* *screams* FAMILY BONDING TIME FLUFF.

“We have to watch this one,” Saskia orders as she re-enters the lounge, clutching ‘The Princess Diaries’ in her hands. You nod, tossing the dishes into the sink. You can do them later.

Saskia curls into your side before the movie’s over, stroking your hand lightly with Penny’s stuffed paws. She’s awfully quiet as the credits roll, but you know she’s not asleep. 

“Can I tell you something?” you ask, dropping a kiss to her head. She nods, pressing Penny’s face to yours and making a noisy kissy noise. You have to smile. “Uncle Aaron and I are seeing each other.”

“Duh,” Saskia says. “You both have eyes.” The fact she says it with a completely straight face has you trying desperately hard not to laugh at her unintended joke.

“I mean, we’re dating,” you correct. “Is that okay?” 

“Do you like him?” 

“Uh huh.”

“Does he like you?” 

“Yeah.” You brush her hair back from her face again and she twists in your lap. 

“Are you happy?” she asks, sandwiching your face in her tiny, child, hands.

“Yes, Saskia, I’m very happy,” you smile, kissing her forehead. 

“Have you guys held hands?” She looks deadly serious. You nod and she smiles so brightly that you think your heart might burst. “Then you must be really happy.”

“I am.”

“When you guys kiss you have to make sure your foot pops otherwise he’s not the right one.” 

“I’ll remember that,” you reassure her. You also make a note to sneak a foot pop in there if you ever kiss Aaron in your daughter’s vicinity. Saskia squeezes your cheeks with all her might (which isn’t very much, to be completely honest) and smiles.

“Are you guys going to have sleepovers? Cause if you are I want pancake night.” 

“You can have pancake night,” you smile as you kiss her forehead. “Now, it’s bedtime, is it not? You have school tomorrow.”

She groans dramatically and throws her hands in the air, launches herself off the couch, and skips to her room. Moments later she returns, picking up Penny and hugging the pet cat to her chest. She looks at you for a moment, smiles, and then she runs to her room. Whatever she’s got up her sleeve, you’re not sure that you mind.

You tuck her in, spying her DS shoved under her pillow. You let it be, but you make a note to mention it to her tomorrow. 

“I love you,” you whisper against her forehead as you kiss her good night. 

“Love you too, Mom,” she says back, snuggling under her covers.

When you’re back on the sofa you text Aaron, telling him that Saskia knows. And you swear you can feel his smile when he texts you back a single smiley face.

***

Prentiss and Morgan had groaned when Hotch had told them that they’d have to come to dinner, but they’d stopped when he said he was paying. 

“Is this?” Spencer asks you, an excited twinkle in his eye. You nod, smiling at him. And he actually claps. Like a five-year-old. And you don’t even mind.

***

Saskia’s taking up most of the table with her Barbie colouring book. She’d insisted in sitting in the centre of the pew-like-seat, because that way she could sit with Garcia and Spencer on either side of her and share her pencils. Whenever Morgan reaches for one she goes ‘nuh uh uh uh uh’ until he puts it down, then hands him the colouring sheet and cup of crayons from the restaurant (The squirrel looking thing is ‘too ugly to colour’, according to Saskia). 

She keeps nervously looking up at JJ, then back to her colouring, then to JJ, until you realise that she’s colouring her Barbie in the same coloured clothes that JJ’s wearing. You smirk, reaching around Spencer to ruffle your daughter’s hair.

Aaron and Dave come back with drinks, sliding them to the team. Morgan takes the opportunity to lean over the table and colour a flower in orange crayon. You think Saskia might actually explode. 

“I said no!” she says forcefully, rubbing at the orange crayon violently with her thumb. “JJ, I’m sorry Morgan ruined your picture.” To her credit, she doesn’t whine, she just holds out her hand for the crayon. “I’ll have to do every flower orange now.”

“Is this your daughter?” Morgan says in mock surprise as he looks at you, handing her over the crayon. “You’ve raised a very strong willed young lady.”

“I’d hope so,” you smile at him, shuffling over as Aaron slides in beside you, squeezing your thigh. 

Gosh, he looks nervous. You’ve never actually seen him look this nervous, behind the cute jumper and big smiles. Big, big, smile. You haven’t seen him smile that big since he signed the divorce papers, even in the quiet moments alone with you. 

“So is this dinner actually for something?” Morgan asks, leaning back on his chair. 

Saskia’s head snaps to you and Aaron like she’s been caught. You smile at her and raise a finger to your lips like the rest of the team can’t see it, which somehow seems to work. You’re betting the entire team knows exactly what’s happening and they’re just waiting to see who lost the bet.

“I got class captain,” Saskia says proudly. “And I got all my spelling words right today so I got a bag of dinosaurs.”

“That’s something worth celebrating,” Morgan chuckles, clinking his glass to Saskia’s earning a small glare when the fizzy drink threatens to splash onto her page. She turns to you and gives you a thumbs up behind Spencer’s back and you smile at her.

The food arrives and Aaron pushes it mostly around his plate, eating sporadically. Saskia’s stealing peas off Morgan’s plate, and then pays him with half a chip. Her and Spencer debate how much of his dinner is worth a chicken nugget, and they settle on a nugget sized spoonful of pasta. Garcia steals a chip or two, but you watch as she replaces them with chips from her own plate.

Emily catches your eye, smiling at you softly, cocking her head. You smile back at her. 

“You okay?” Aaron says quietly into your ear, making it look like he’s looking around the room. 

“Are you?” you squeeze his knee lightly earning a small smirk. Such a small smirk. 

“What do we even say?” 

You’re about to respond when Saskia crawls between the two of you, holding her picture in front of her proudly.

“Does it look nice?” she asks. Aaron points at the orange flowers, complimenting them. She looks so incredibly proud of herself, explaining that she had to save it from Morgan’s assault. 

“You should give it to JJ,” Aaron says, shuffling so Saskia can climb out to JJ. Aaron laces his fingers in yours under the table, glancing at you softly. “I still have no idea what to say.”

“Me either.”

Saskia leans into JJ’s ear, whispering something very dramatic, and you watch as JJ looks up at the two of you and freaking beams. It’s like her pregnancy glow became a superhero power with the way she looks at the two of you. 

“Really? You two are seeing each other?” JJ places a hand on her chest and you can physically see Saskia’s confusion before rolling her eyes.

“Wait, really?!” Emily screeches, slamming her hands down on the table. Saskia shakes her head, climbing back to her own seat over Aaron, behind you, through Spencer (literally, you're not entirely sure how she went in front and behind). Somehow, without damaging anything.

“Yeah, really,” you smile. “And it doesn’t change anything at work, according to Strauss.”

“That sounds like a trap,” the entire table says in unison.

“Except Mom shouldn’t play favourites,” Saskia says matter-of-factly. “You should all get cupcakes on your birthday.” 

"Hang on," Prentiss says, narrowing her eyes. "Who knew?"

Slowly, almost everyone raises their hand. Saskia's the most confident, followed by Spencer, then Dave and Morgan. Garcia raises hers a little more hesitantly. Prentiss scoffs in a 'i can't believe this' kind of way. 

"Everyone knew except me and JJ?" 

"I guess?" You respond, maybe a little sheepishly.

"How long for?" 

"Forever," Saskia says before anyone else can. You don't even TRY to correct her, because the way Emily’s squirming is far too amusing. 

“A while,” Aaron confesses as he pushes hair off your face. There’s a collection of aw’s around the table (minus Saskia, who makes a dramatic gagging noise) and you can’t bring yourself to look at them, if only because that would confirm how much you were blushing. 

The rest of dinner is the usual: interrogation, interrogation, Emily beating herself up because she’s “a profiler” and “should have known”. To your daughters credit, she doesn’t make a big deal when she’s had enough. She scrapes her ice cream bowl, puts her colouring book away, double checks all her pencils (Morgan was hiding one, and he did not win that fight), then crawls into your side. 

You get to pull off an extra twenty minutes before Saskia’s tapping at your leg impatiently and whispering that she wants to leave. You can’t argue with that (or, you could, and have a feral child on your hands), so you make your excuses to leave. 

“I’ll show you out,” Aaron says quietly as you try to wrestle grabbing your bag, Saskia’s bag, and Saskia (who’s body has apparently decided to stop working and send her into a deep, deep sleep). He grabs your bags as you haul Saskia into your arms.

“‘Night guys,” you smile to the table, giving them a small wave. There’s a soft chorus of nights, with a couple of raunchier comments (which you take, but only because Saskia’s asleep). 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Aaron says as you place Saskia in the car, doing her seatbelt up. You shut the door, leaning up against it and smiling up at him.

“It wasn’t,” you agree. “Neither of us did a damn thing.” 

You kiss him lightly, wrapping your arms around his middle. He grins, nudging your cheek lightly. 

“I have to go home,” you whine, squeezing him. “But have fun with the team.”

“If I’m not at work tomorrow it’s because Emily and JJ are holding me captive.”

“Oooooo, have fun,” you tease. “There are people who would pay to be in your position.”

He scoffs, kisses you again, then steps away. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, now go have fun, and don’t go back to the office to do paperwork.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he grins as he walks away. You wave at him as he closes the entrance door, sliding into the car.

“I didn’t hear your foot pop,” Saskia says matter of factly. You jump slightly, glaring at her in the revision mirror.

“That’s because you see a foot pop, not hear it.”

“Okay.”

***

Getting Saskia inside proved to be harder without Aaron to get your bags. But twenty minutes later you were finally inside, Saskia tucked in, your bags discarded in the hallway. You grab your coffee cup from the hallway--discarded on the dresser because you’d been running late and Saskia had lost her matching shoe. 

You drop it into the sink, flicking the still warm kettle for another one. 

Still warm.

Your hand flies to your gun, which isn’t there, and you turn around the room slowly. Strauss gives you a wary smile from your sofa.

“Shit, Strauss, how’d you get in here? You scared the shit out of me.” You laugh nervously, but there’s something in her eye that doesn’t sit right. “Want a coffee?” and she shakes her head.

Another voice. Masculine. Surely not Strauss. “It’s rude of you not to offer all your guests a beverage, Little Bird. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sits down* kids, there's a big storm comin'. I struggled writing this SO BAD because I know what's about to happen hahahahahahahhahhahahahah i'm so sorryyyyyyyyyyyyyy.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Please welcome--AN ASSHOLE~~  
> ~~tw this gets abusey and dark.~~

He’s leaning up against your photo wall, holding a framed photograph of Saskia, twirling a gun in the other. 

Felix. 

He should be dead. You know that. You look down at Strauss who looks far too pale. 

“You okay?” you ask her, not quite moving from the kitchen. She nods, albeit small.

“She’s fine,” Felix says gruffly, throwing Saskia’s photograph to the floor. “She’s got a little bullet wound, though, and your floor may never recover from that.”

You don’t look at him, just keep your eyes locked on Strauss. “Erin? You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” she confirms. She looks the furthest from fine, but you let it fly.

“Y’know, babe, you’re hard to track,” Felix says as he saunters across the room, running the barrel of his gun over Strauss’s shoulders. Fuck, you wish you hadn’t taken you’re gun off. “I tried finding you for years. Years. And yet, nothing. Then you reappear, DC, no cases, just sitting on your pretty lil’ ass, even though you closed White Lily.”

“There wasn’t anything to work,” you say, backing up against the bench, walking slowly towards the knife block. In any other world you’re sure there would have been relief that Felix was alive, five minutes ago you would have been jumping for joy (well, maybe, as long as he didn’t have a gun), but now? Fuck that.

“I give you Dollhouse. It was so easy, those girls were just so… vulnerable. And Smith? Far too easy to convince. He was just… so easy to convince.” He throws his head back, giving a short bark of laughter that makes your skin crawl. “I made your career, and then you leave?” 

He looks at you with hurt in his eyes. You’re not sure if it’s mock or not, but it still makes you feel gross. You crawl your hand up the bench as sneakily as you can. 

Bang.

You don’t scream, you wish you had, as the bullet whizzes passed you, shattering the cupboard behind you. Saskia’s light flicks on, then off, you can only just see it. But you see it. 

“I wasn’t done talking.” Felix gives you that award winning smile that’s all over your wedding photos. “No trying to kill me until I’m done. It’s rude. The girl I married would never be so rude.”

“The girl you married didn’t have a dead husband,” you retort. 

“Touche. Have a seat.” He motions to the couch and you shake your head in response. But then he’s tapping the barrel of the gun against the back of the couch. And he doesn’t look all that patient. 

You join Strauss, perching on the edge of the couch. 

“How’re you doing, Little Bird?”

“I’ve been better.” Ballsy, you think, for a woman with a dead husband (who’s apparently alive) waving a gun around your lounge room. 

“This place looks good on you.”

“Mhmm,” you respond, squeezing Strauss’ knee. Her foot’s all bandaged up, but she’s doing okay. She could do with a hospital visit, but who wouldn’t when they’d been shot. 

“It was hard to find,” Felix says, perching on the arm of the chair. “Your little technical analyst, she’s a tough one to crack. No matter how many times I flattered her, or tried to hack into her files, I could never get your address.”

You don’t ask how he got it. Mainly not to give him the satisfaction, but also because he doesn’t give you a chance to.

“Sending the shoes was easy.” He somehow procures the heels you’d worn to the gala, dangling them between his fingers. “Detective Harden, boy, was he ever falling at your feet. Buying you that dress? Easy enough to send you those shoes. And when you said no? Easy, just rope this one in.” He waves the gun recklessly in Strauss’s direction. “But then you spent forever in New York. I thought you’d never leave, and then, bam, these have been here for weeks. Never moving.”

“Why aren’t you dead?” 

He studies you, then puts the barrel of his gun under your chin, lifting it. He’s really not the man you married anymore. The man you almost divorced? Sure. 

“Because you didn’t check if I was still breathing.” He holds your eyes, his green ones piercing into you. You don’t blink. Strauss, on the other hand, is shaking like a wet leaf in gale force winds. 

“I’ll make sure to do it this time.”

He laughs, heartily this time, and slaps your shoulder. “Have fun doing it with your bare hands.” 

He discards the shoes, clattering against the hardwood floor, then grabs your TV remote. He turns it on, the security camera from the restaurant showing you the table you’d all sat at. And there they all are, ignorant, happy.

“One of them step out of place, act strangely, make any effort to come here, and poof. They’re gone.” 

“You can’t do that,” you say matter-of-factly. But Strauss places her hand over yours, squeezing lightly in warning. 

“The waitress, she’ll take them all out. Every last one. Watch. Spill the tall one’s drink.”

On queue, the waitress trips, knocking Aaron’s drink over. It goes absolutely everywhere. And you feel your heart hollow and drop. There’s nothing worse than that feeling. 

“What do you want?” you ask.

“Let’s see that little brat kid of ours.” He hauls you to your feet, stumbling slightly. You pray to every higher power that exists that she’s hidden herself. 

She surely has, because it takes Felix forever to open the door. He wrestles with it, then settles for shooting the handle. Not that it helps. He uses his full body weight to open the door, Saskia’s bed scraping along the floor. However she managed to move the bed silently by herself, you made a note to congratulate her. 

She’s not there. You’ve never been more grateful for the absence of your child.

“Where is she?” Felix growls, shoving the gun into your stomach. 

“I don’t know,” you smile. Because you, truthfully, don’t. 

“Cute,” he smiles back. 

Then you're flying back against the wall, crumpling, landing on top of your bags. It takes a moment of panic to get yourself back on your feet, ignoring the searing pain down your back. Felix is tearing through Saskia’s room, throwing everything everywhere. 

“Get out,” you manage to say with all the force you can. He turns to you, cocks his head, and smiles.

“No thanks.” 

“Why’re you here?” you ask, far too calmly, sliding into Saskia’s room. You clamber over her bed, pushing stuff out the way with your foot as you take a seat on her not-quite-window-seat. 

“I made you,” he says, picking up a doll and holding it with disgust. “And yet, you thank me by leaving the FBI, only to return at the bottom? Why?” he throws the doll against the wall, you watch as it clatters to the floor. 

“I’m not at the bottom.”

“You work for Aaron.” He points the gun at you. “That’s pretty fucking close to the bottom.”

He tips a box that Saskia would have never fit in upside down. “Alright, where’s that brat?” He stalks over to you, hauling you to your feet. The lid on the seat bounces open, then shut. Shit. He smirks, opening it, but there’s no one there. 

You actually gasp in relief. His hand slams against your throat, the force driving you into the wall, and you’re feeling around desperately for a toy that has anything solid as a part of it. But there’s nothing.

The closet door opens slowly, Felix doesn’t even notice. Your vision is dimming as Saskia pulls herself out of the closet, baseball bat in hand (you’re sure that’s from Morgan). She looks at Felix, then at you, then slams the baseball bat into Felix’s knees. And you’ve never been prouder of her as you pass out.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! Only short for today ~~!

When you wake, you're bouncing in the back of a van. Saskia's crying into Strauss's shoulder. When she sees your eyes flicker open she's launching at you, throwing her arms around you.

"I'm sorry, Mommy, I tried to help," she sobs. 

"It's--" your voice rasps, and you clear your throat despite the pain. "You're very brave. I'm proud of you." You squeeze her as tight as you can, rubbing circles over her back.

"Are you okay?" Strauss asks. You nod because you're not sure how long your voice will hold out for. 

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“BAU, I don’t know how he’s going to get in.”

You stare at Strauss. “He has a section chief with him. He can go anywhere he wants.”

“... Oh.” 

You frown at her slightly, wondering how she managed to get THIS far up the food chain while being this thick. But then you give her a pass because you’re under immense stress, and it’s probably been a while since she’s done field work. When the van stops Saskia holds onto you tighter than you ever thought she could. 

Something solid sticks into your side under Saskia’s coat. You push her away slightly, peeling the coat away from her body. She smiles softly as you see her packet of lolly dinosaurs. You raise an eyebrow as Saskia looks at you with wide eyes.

“What’s this?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice light for her.

“I can drop them,” she whispers back. “Then the team can find us.” 

You pull her back into your chest so she doesn’t see the tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks. You’ve never been prouder.

***

Felix limped every other step. Saskia’s beating didn’t quite keep him out of action, but it made him slower, and it didn’t matter because you were proud of her. He’d ditched his gun, but kept his phone, threatening to press call every time any one of you stepped out of line.

You cover Saskia’s ears as you enter the elevator, Strauss favouring the shot foot. You don’t blame her. 

“Felix?” you test, and he taps his nail against his phone. “What are we doing?”

“Packing up your stuff,” he says simply. “You should lead a team. Can’t do it while you’re here.”

“I don’t want to lead my own team.”

“Sure you do,” he turns back to you with a smile on his face. It makes your skin crawl. “You told me so.”

“When?”

He looks at you, deadpan, and turns back to the elevator doors. Saskia wiggles out of your grip around her ears. 

“What can I do?” she pipes up. When Felix doesn’t answer she tugs on his sleeve and repeats her question. You instinctively grab her shoulders, pulling her back towards you.

“Stay where I can see you.” 

***

Aaron’s dialed your number more times than he should have. But you haven’t turned up for work, your desk cleaned, and Strauss is nowhere to be seen. Dave’s checked in more than once, but there’s still nothing.

“Hotch,” Morgan says, pushing the door open. “I’m gonna drop by her place with Prentiss. Something isn’t sitting right.” 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, collapsing into his chair. He’s up on his feet quicker than he was down, pushing his chair out the way. 

“Hotch?” Morgan prompts as he turns his chair upside down, pulling the gummied dinosaurs from the wheels. “Those dinosaurs, Hotch?”

“Yeah.”

“Saskia was here?”

“Apparently.”

“Hotch?” Spencer says tentatively, wandering into the room, flicking the post-it-note between his fingers. “This mean anything to you?”

He snatches it from Spencer. It’s your handwriting. ‘11.12.Quiet birds in circled flight’.

“She turn into Gideon?” Morgan snipes, which maybe wasn’t the right thing to do.

“Reid,” Hotch says, flinging it back to Spencer. “Make it mean something.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ breaking the POV for a lil because sneaky 9-year-old Saskia POV is something we need ~

"Isn't this nice?" Felix smiles as he walks through the mall, arm over your shoulders. You've got Saskia's hand in yours, keeping an eye on her. You know she won't leave you. Still makes you nervous. Felix had left Strauss in the back of the van, gagged with a fresh bandage over her wounded foot. And you hate it for him.

“She has a family,” you tell Felix quietly and you know that he knows you’re talking about Strauss.

Felix cocks his head at you and squeezes your shoulder far too hard. 

"Isn't this nice?" he repeats forcefully. 

"Really nice," you smile back at him even though you don't believe it. He knows you don't believe it. 

Someone compliments him on his 'good looking family' and he beams like he's been there the whole time. You force a smile on your face. Saskia looks away, distracted by something in a store front window. She tugs on your hand lightly, but doesn't quite point. 

"Can I get something?" she asks. 

You glance at Felix, who’s still talking to the lady who’s complimented him and his family. You’re trying so hard not to look uncomfortable.

“I dunno, sweetie, I haven’t got any money on me,” you smile as Felix’s grip tightens around your shoulder.

Saskia scrunches her face up like what she’s about to do disgusts her. Then she lets go of your hand, reaches out and tugs on Felix’s jacket.

“Dad? Can I get something?” she turns her face up to him, eyes wide. And he totally melts, despite the fact that the whole sentence has made your stomach boil and bubble and you’re fighting not to throw up. He pulls out his wallet and hands her a wad of cash that looks like it’s enough to buy an airplane ticket.

He kneels down to her height, and while a smile on his face from start to finish he says: “Any longer than 5 minutes, any funny business, and I’ll make that phone call.”

Saskia’s bottom lip quivers but she’s brave, and she nods, and you’re proud of her. “I just want a toy.”

“Good girl,” he kisses her forehead and you tug her away immediately, glaring at Felix. He tutts at you but Saskia’s turned away and she’s skipping into the store. 

She’d seen them in the store window when you hadn’t. Not a toy, that’s what everyone else had seen, but Auntie Haley. She’d been trying to pry an action figure out of Jack’s hand while wrestling with the stroller. 

Saskia grabs a beanie kid off the entrance shelf as she walks, calmly but fast, through the aisles trying to find Auntie Haley. She has a whole plan, she’s going to be brave like Spencer, tell Auntie Haley to call Aaron, buy the toy, and leave. 

But when Haley turns around the poor kid loses it entirely, crushing Haley with the most desperate, strongest, hug she’s ever done in her life. 

“Saskia?” Haley asks lowly, placing an arm over the small girl. Which snaps her out of it entirely.

“I can’t stay,” she says quickly. “And you can’t let him know you’re here.”

“Who?” Haley says. Saskia’s head snaps to the window to where Felix is tapping his foot impatiently. Jack reaches out, taking Saskia’s hand, his eyes wide, and he’s about to say something when Saskia kisses his forehead because that’s what you do when you’ve got somewhere important to be and can’t stop to talk.

She grabs Haley’s phone out of the stroller, finds Aaron’s number, dials it, puts it in Haley’s hand. 

“I have to go. Tell him it’s Dad.” And then Saskia’s hurriedly going to the counter, exchanging money for the bear, and she gives the tiniest wave to Jack so it wouldn’t look like she’s worried. Because she is.

She shoves the extra cash into Felix’s pocket before grasping onto your hand. 

“What did you get?” Felix prompts happily, steering you both along. Saskia produces the magenta beanie baby dragon, shaking it so it’s wings flap. “Have you given it a name?”

“Jackie.”

You glance down at your daughter as she squeezes your hand. And you’re sure you see Haley leaving the toy store.

***

“I know it means something,” Reid says as he paces back and forth, the post-it-note still in his hand.

“A date, maybe?” Prentiss offers as, she too, is pulling gummies dinosaurs from the wheels of her chair. “A memory?”

“No. It’s something else. I keep thinking of my mother. But… I can’t think of why.”

“Com’on Reid, you’ve got an eidetic memory,” Morgan says. He’s remarkably more stressed than he had been in the morning, one trip to y/n’s house and he’d known it was far worse. The bullet hole in the cabinet, the one in the floor, the blood that’s pooled and smudged in front of the couch. Saskia’s trashed room. The baseball bat that he’s already taken to evidence because that had blood on it too.

“I know!” Reid shrieks, making everyone jump. 

It calls both Rossi and Hotch out of their offices, their stress written all over their faces. Rossi drags over a whiteboard, writing out “11.12.Quiet Birds in Circled Flight” in large letters.

“Think it over,” Rossi says, tapping the board. 

“A date,” Prentiss offers. Rossi writes it on the board like a primary school teacher. 

“Reid’s mother,” Morgan adds. “Renaissance literature?”

“Not that,” Reid says quietly. 

Garcia rushes into the room, dropping into Morgan’s chair and pulling up security footage. 

“Most of it’s been wiped,” Garcia says, “but the footage at the base of the fire escape stairwell, that’s still here. Whoever did this knew what they were doing, the wiping of it didn’t set off any alarms.”

“What’ve you got?” Hotch says gruffly. 

“Four people came in,” Garcia says, quickly and panicked. “Saskia, Y/n, Strauss, and someone else. I can’t get clear footage, it’s processing at the moment. Strauss is injured, but Saskia looks fine.”

“Y/n?” Hotch prompts. Garcia swallows.

“Scared shitless, but probably fine.”

“What’d scare her?” Rossi and Morgan say in unison. Hotch just shakes his head. He has no idea.

His phone rings. Haley. Not now. He excuses himself, retreating to his office. Rossi taps the board to draw everyone’s attention back. 

“I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight,” Garcia says. “It’s a line from a poem.”

Reid’s face contorts into something that resembles someone trying to recall something. Now was not the time for Reid to be learning about a poem.

“How many lines?” Emily asks.

“Uhh…” Garcia punches it into a search engine, pulling up the poem. “Do Not Stand by my Grave and Weep…. 12 lines.”

“11 and 12?” Reid says.

“Do not stand at my grave and cry,” Garcia reads. “I am not there, I did not die.”

“Something spook her? Wasn’t she in WITSEC? Maybe she needed to disappear,” Emily offers.

“And leaves us something cryptic? Doesn’t tell Hotch?” Morgan scoffs. 

“If it was sudden,” Emily continues, but she’s interrupted by Rossi.

“Saskia wouldn’t have put dinosaurs in your wheels if they were leaving because something spooked her. Someone else would have cleared her desk,” Rossi says. 

“There’s something in here,” Emily grunts as she digs her fingers into the grooves of her wheels. She hisses as she cuts her fingers, pulling out a gummy covered wedding ring. 

Which is when JJ rushes in, holding files dated back to the garden killer where y/n was kidnapped, and Hotch comes out with Haley on loud speaker and your engagement ring in his hand, and the computer Garcia’s on dings at her.

“It’s Felix Garza,” Hotch, Rossi, Garcia and JJ say in unison.

“Haley’s got eyes on them at the mall. No Strauss,” Hotch jogs down the stairs, car keys in his hand. “I’m going.”

“Is he armed?” Rossi asks, grabbing his own stuff. 

“Not visibly,” Haley responds.

“I told you not to follow them,” Hotch snaps.

“I happen to be in the same mall, I’m looking,” Haley hisses. The entire team just look awkwardly at Hotch. 

“Not armed,” JJ confirms. 

“He has something,” Garcia interjects, tapping at her screen. “Here, y/n points to it when she passes. It’s probably how he’s gotten them to do everything.”

“Call us when you figure out what it is,” Morgan says, grabbing his stuff. 

“JJ?” Garcia asks when the team have left. “How’d you know it’s Garza?”

“Y/n requested the DNA files from the human-garden case... last night, apparently,” JJ says. “It got flagged cause a dead guy’s DNA is all over it.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ I had some fun with my girls this chapter ~  
> ~ this is A LOT OF DIALOGUE~

Haley’s been following you for quite some time. To her credit, she’s quite good at it. You never would have known she was following you except Saskia had looked very proud of herself and you had to keep reminding her not to constantly turn and look. You kind of wish she wouldn’t, only because you have no idea what Felix is about to do, and you’re not putting Haley in danger because of it.

“We should go to the roof,” Felix says, squeezing you excitedly. 

Definitely not, you think. And yet, you nod. You nod and find yourself guilty of looking back at Haley. Thankfully Felix doesn’t notice. 

“Are we even allowed on the roof?” Saskia asks and you shoosh her. She drops a gummy dinosaur by the door as Felix leads you out to the carpark, up the myriad of staircases to the roof carpark. 

“Felix?” you ask as Saskia raises the beanie bear to her lips and whispers into its ear. “You never did tell me how you survived.”

His eyes flash back to that dangerous look they’d had all night. “Can’t you just be happy that I’m here?” 

“I wish I could,” you mumble, ruffling Saskia’s hair. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shit. You’ve done it again.

“Felix, you were dead. I saw you, I held you, I mourned you,” you cover Saskia’s ears and at this point you’re not sure if it does anything. “I came home and you were dead, and I’m just supposed to accept that you’re back? With no explanation?”

“I made your career.”

“I made my own career.”

“Didn’t you ever find it funny, that the White Lily killer, he just… stopped, one day, and then. Bam. I died.”

“No, I didn’t find it funny, I found it terrifying. We had the Boston Reaper, White Lily… two prolifant serial killers that just stopped out of nowhere. Fucking, there was nowhere safe.”

“The Boston Reaper,” Felix sighs. “That’s a man I’d love to meet.”

“No,” you respond. “How and why are you alive.” It’s no longer a question, or a request, but an order.

“You should be happy--”

“Stop. Answer me.”

“I made a deal,” Felix says. Anyone else might have sounded defeated, but he said it like it was something to be proud of. “You’d had Saskia, the BAU was really kicking off, a job that was perfect for you by the way. You were so stressed, you just needed time to catch up on paperwork. He rang me in ‘99, offered a deal. I just had to keep his memory alive.”

“1999?” you ask in disbelief. “When in 1999?”

“February.” 

You give a short bark of laughter. “That’s funny, because I think it was… hmm… July of ‘99 when we returned home to a dead baby sitter and our daughter, surrounded by blood dipped lillies. And you let me believe he could get into our house. You let me believe I hadn’t done enough.”

“You needed to believe it, Little Bird,” he smiles, reaching over to cup your cheek. “Look how much of a better mother it made you. A better agent.” 

“I’m a fucking good agent,” you spit at him. “And a good mother. And I didn’t need you to KILL SOMEONE to make me better.”

“But imagine where you’d be if I hadn’t.”

And for a moment you let yourself imagine. Two more kids, a cute house, maybe you’d have taken that job with the NSA. But you still wouldn’t have seen Aaron and Haley. You’d barely--barely--remembered to send them invitations to Saskia’s baby shower. And you wouldn’t have joined the BAU, no way, and then you wouldn't have met the team.

“I’m happy here,” you smile.

“See?” he says like you’ve just proved his point. “I took you to great places.”

“I didn’t want you to take me to great places.”

“But I did.” He takes your cheek in his hand once more and kisses you. You’ve never felt less emotion towards a kiss. “And now we’re going to build you back up.”

Saskia wiggles between your grip on her ears. You hold tighter.

“How?”

“I figured first, we take out the team. Then Haley. Then this little one.” He brushes the back of his fingers against Saskia’s cheek. “You can always make a new one.”

You can actually feel your blood boil. And for a moment you’re deaf, thinking about nothing but killing him. Just pushing him off the roof, watching him fall all those stories. He’d probably survive that. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. You’re not entirely sure why, you could make a good case for self defence if you were to kill him. 

“You still haven’t told me how you survived, Felix.”

“Don’t need to,” he smiles. “So who shall we start with?” he flips his phone out, tapping it. “Who should we call, tell them they’re going to die. Because they’re all here, trying to find you, my Little Bird.”

“Who?” you turn Saskia, hugging her to your stomach. 

“The team. Haley. Choose one.”

“No.”

“We should start with the head, right, chop it off? Another one grows in place. Kill Aaron, then what, Rossi? Then that Derek Morgan. Emily Prentiss.” He catches his bottom lip in his teeth. “The other ones, they’ll have to suffer of course. You see them as your children. Might just take them out with Saskia.”

“Felix, stop it.”

“So we’ll start with Aaron.”

“No.”

Saskia’s somehow wriggled out of your grip that’s, admittedly, loosened at the fear of watching Felix kill Aaron.

“You can’t kill Uncle Aaron,” Saskia says forcefully. 

“And why would that be, little monkey?” he kneels to in front of her, squeezing her cheeks.

“Because--because--” and she loses it, lip quivering, tears falling down her face. You pull her away from Felix and into your arms, snarling at him. He gasps like a teenage girl being given the best gossip of all time.

“Are you two in lurve?” he asks, standing and squeezing your cheeks. “That’s so much better on the reports. Avenging a dead lover. Tell you what, let’s play a game.” He pulls out his phone and hands it to you. “Call him. Tell him to leave. If he does, I won’t kill him. Disappointing, really.” It’s not much of a game.

“I’m not calling him.”

“Call him.”

“No.”

Felix grabs your chin and squeezes rather forcefully. ‘Call. Him.”

So you dial his number, hands shaking, and raise the phone to your ear. Felix shakes his head, smiling a little.

“Loud speaker.” 

“Hotchner,” Aaron says after the fourth ring.

“Where are you?” you say without introducing yourself. He makes a hushing noise and you know he’s with the team.

“Where are you?” he replies.

‘Tell him to leave,’ Felix mouths. You glare at him. 

“You need to leave, Aar,” you say, snaking your hand over Saskia’s shoulder, pulling her into you. “Please. You, and the team--” Felix makes a tutting noise and you tense. “Just get out. Please.”

“Where are you?” he repeats.

“Aaron.” You don’t think your voice has ever been more pleading. Ever. “Leave, I’m okay, this is all just a big misunderstanding.” You take a shaky breath, and you’re sure Garcia’s probably tracking the phone call. “Leave. I lov--”

Aaron cuts you off. “Save it. Tell me later, when this is all over.”

And fuck, do your eyes fill with tears, and you blubber a little at Aaron returning your own medicine back at you. But Felix is over it, and he’s hanging up, and throwing it away from the three of you.

“That was boring. I’ll take him down later. The brat it is then.” Felix grabs the back of Saskia’s shirt and she screams bloody murder. You slash at his face with your nails, pushing Saskia behind you, prying his fingers off her. It’s all fear and adrenaline that keeps you going, and you’re not sure how you’ve pried off a large, muscled man, with Saskia screaming.

The kind of screams you will hear in your nightmares for the rest of time. 

Which is when Haley comes screeching up in her car. She doesn’t even hit the brakes when Felix steps in front of the car. She just hits him. And he goes flying over the bonnet as she reaches over and pops the door open.

“Get in!” she yells. You don’t argue, picking Saskia up and climbing into the car with Saskia still on your lap.

Jack’s in the back, earphones on, covering his eyes. You say hi to him and you know he’s heard because he gives a small smile. Somehow, he fucking stands up.

“What do I do?” Haley panics.

“Out. Just get out,” you respond, but you’re trying to figure out if killing the team is worth getting out. But Saskia. Jack. The kids. You’re sure they’d do it if they were in the same position. 

“Are you going to tell me why your dead husband is right here, alive?”

“I would if I knew.”

“Mind if I hit him again?” Haley looks at you with a glint in her eye and you can’t help but smile. She takes it as approval, knocking the car into reverse. You hit him with a thunk. “Wanna call your new boy toy?” she says, handing you her phone. “Tell him where you are?” 

Her phone rings, as if on queue, and you answer without looking at caller ID.

“Did he threaten you?” it’s not anyone from the team. But you know the voice, it’s the White Lily killer. You glance at Haley.

“Yes,” you respond, and Haley looks at you. 

“Move the car. Secure your children.” 

You hit Haley’s shoulder in a panic, and she takes the hint, flooring it forward. The gunshot is unmistakable, and you’re beyond glad that no one in the car saw the blood spray as Felix collapses to the floor. 

“Your boss is on the ground floor carpark. I won’t bother you again.”

“Lose this number,” you say back. And he hangs up.

“Who was that?” Haley asks.

“Not Aaron,” you say through the shakes in your voice. “Strauss is on the ground floor.” and you’re dialing Aaron’s number, stroking Saskia’s hair as you try to calm your breathing. 

One ring.

Two rings. 

Three--

“Haley, where are you?”

“We’re okay,” the both of you say in unison. “We’re going to the ground floor carpark,” you continue. “Felix is dead. Roof carpark.”

“Morgan’s on it,” Aaron says. There’s a moment of silence and then, “me and Reid will meet you guys in the carpark.”

***

The paramedics are already there when you and Haley pull into the carpark. The best part about the chaos is that you don’t have to actually find a park. You grab the notepad out of the glove box that Haley’s always had in her car, then the pen that’s somehow never ran out of ink, and write down a phone number.

“What’s this?” Haley asks.

“My therapist,” you say, pressing it into her hands. “Trust me, you’ll need her.”

Haley smiles and squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

“Shit, Hales,” you laugh because if you don’t you’re going to cry. “I love you too.”

“I would do that again a thousand times over if you needed me too,” she whispers.

“Speaking of which, I was driving the car when he got hit twice. I don’t care what the truth is. And if you ever need me to hit someone with a car, I owe you two.”

You squeeze each other’s hands and smile, despite the day you’ve both just had. Haley raises your joined hands and points behind you.

“I think you have a kid to look after.”

And you turn to see Spencer hopping from foot to foot and can’t help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Oh, we wanted closure on Felix? lolol no opportunities for closure. ~  
> ~ awkward reuniting with Hotch to coooome ~


	28. Chapter 28

Saskia launches at the windscreen when she looks up, banging it until Aaron turns to the car. She waves and then climbs into the back, taking off Jack’s headphones and unbuckling him.

“Let’s go see Dad, yeah?” Saskia says as she tries to lift Jack as she gets out of the car. 

Haley turns to you with a grin and squeezes your hand. “She didn’t say ‘your’ dad,” Haley points out. But you’re just staring at her with an open mouth that you just can’t shut. 

“She did not.” You watch as Saskia and Jack run towards Aaron, who drops to his knees to take both of them in his arms. “Are… are you okay with that?”

“We can’t punish a kid for telling the truth,” Haley smiles. “And you can’t punish yourself either, just because I’m here.” You look at her like you have no idea what she’s talking about, but she squeezes your hand. “I heard the whole phone call. I don’t mind.”

“Yes you do,” you say quietly as you look at Aaron, the way he’s quietly looking over Saskia and Jack without alerting them. And fuck, do you love him.

“Yes I do,” Haley agrees. “But he’s…” she sighs dramatically and motions at him. “Look at him, hun, he’s happy. And so are you. And I didn’t just hit your ex-husband, and my friend, twice with my car for you and Aaron to walk on eggshells around me.”

You don’t even get to tell her how much you appreciate it, because Spencer’s ran out of patience and he’s opened the car door.

“You didn’t wear your seatbelt!” Spencer squeaks. Haley lets go of your hand.

“I also had an unrestrained minor in my lap,” you add playfully, climbing out of the car and pulling him into a hug. Spencer doesn’t get the humour, he just blubbers into your shoulder and holds on bone crushingly tight. You rub circles over his back until he lets go, eyes trained on your neck.

“That’s going to bruise really badly,” he says, pointing as though you can see it. 

“I know,” you smile and take his face in your hands. “I’m okay Spence.” 

He nods a thousand times over and you know he doesn’t believe it. “I couldn’t figure it out,” he says quietly, guilty. “You gave me the most obvious clue and I couldn’t figure it out.”

You can’t help the small whine that escapes you. “But you did figure it out, that’s what a team is for, Spence. It’s like a hive mind.”

“Hive mind?” Spencer repeats but he smiles and you’ve done your job. “Morgan says your house is a dump.”

“The price you have to pay when your e--” you can’t finish because the words get all bundled in your throat, and you want to cry. Genuinely. 

Which is when Aaron squeezes your shoulder, and you’re sure he smiles at Spencer because he backs off, and Aaron’s pulling you into his chest. When he wraps you up in his arms the world disappears. All that exists is the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, listening to his heart beat that’s far faster than usual.

His hand finds the back of your head, where it gathers your hair in a light fist as he buries his nose in the top of your hair. You fist your hands in the back of his shirt, holding onto him like he’s about to evaporate.

You’re interrupted by a paramedic who insists that you need to be checked out. Haley’s sitting on the step of one of the ambulances with Saskia under her arm, Jack on her lap. 

“How’s Strauss?” you croak, wincing as you clear your throat. The concerned look Aaron gives you makes you want to wipe it off.

“The bullet missed everything important. She’ll be on it in no time.” But he’s still looking at you like you’re going to keel over. He brushes your hair behind your ear and kisses your temple. 

***

“Pancakes,” Saskia says as she stomps her foot. You’ve been cleared by paramedics, and the Bureau’s given you three days to get your stuff together before you have to meet with the Director in DC. Investigations and all that.

“Pancakes?” Aaron repeats, glancing between you and Haley who both nod. “Can’t argue with that.”

The five of you end up at the diner you’d always frequented in highschool, at the same table too. Saskia and Jack were occupied with Saskia’s DS, looking after their virtual dogs. Emily had brought it to the hospital with a change of clothes for Saskia. 

To start, it’s kind of uncomfortable. Of course it’s uncomfortable, it’s probably the first time Aaron and Haley have hung out since the divorce. There are times you wished you could crawl under the table and join Saskia and Jack, who are so enthralled with their virtual dogs that they’re oblivious to the rest of the table. And you’re glad they are because you haven’t ordered any pancakes yet.

“Mom. Mom,” Saskia repeats, her taps on the table become more consistent until she’s slapping it. 

“Excuse me,” you say a lot less forcefully than you usually would. But Saskia’s still slapping against the table.

“Pancakes are supposed to be an open conversation with no awkwardness,” Saskia says like she’s reciting the Declaration of Independence or something. Then she holds out her hand, palm up, and you know exactly what she’s doing. You fish out a couple of dollars and give them to her, using the opportunity to slip under the table.

“What’re you doing, lil’ monkey?” you ask through a forced smile, knowing what her answer would be. 

“White chocolate cookies,” Saskia says matter-of-factly and she grabs your and Jack’s hands. 

There were only four left, so you break them up on the plate, giving a quarter to Saskia and Jack. Saskia insists she’s the one to give them the plate, so you let her. You can feel Haley glaring at you but you don’t turn around. 

“Look,” Jack says, grabbing your hand. “These are our dogs.”

“I love them,” you smile. “Can they do tricks?” you ask even though you know they can. 

Saskia looks proud of herself as she joins your booth, a massive smile on her face, and you can’t help but smile because she is and you weren’t sure how long it’d be until she’d smile again. 

“The plate of truth has been delivered,” Saskia says. 

“Uh oh,” Jack says and the whole table echoes him. 

It takes a better part of an hour for Haley and Aaron to finish their plate, and another half hour before they’re talking like they haven’t hurt each other. They even manage a hug, at which Saskia and Jack hi-five and you wonder how long they’d both been planning it. 

“Pancakes?” Aaron offers when they both come back over, Haley sliding in next to Saskia. The table all hum agreement.

“I’m hungry,” Jack says matter-of-factly. Aaron grins and picks him up, consulting with him about who has what pancakes. 

And despite your day, you find yourself smiling.

***

But the smiles are gone when you get home. You’d given Saskia to opportunity to stay at your dad’s, but the pure panic that covers her face… Well, you knew you’re not leaving her. 

The entrance hall is trashed, more than you remember. Some of the broken stuff comes in the shape of Morgan and Prentiss’s sweep of the house, but then there’s others. Like the massive hole in the wall where Felix had slammed you against it. 

Saskia’s room is trashed. You think about dealing with it, but ultimately just pull the door closed. You’ve moved her room into the spare one until you’ve got the energy to deal with it, and she doesn’t even mind because she’s found one of Spencer’s books. That she for sure shouldn’t be reading, but after her day you don’t really care if she reads a criminal psychology book. (Or you do, and Spencer’s going to wear it if she doesn’t sleep.)

It’s 3am when you’re on your fourth mop of the floor. You’ve thrown all the pictures of Felix you have in the bin (if Saskia hadn’t been at home you would have smashed them against the wall or something). 

“Have you slept?” Aaron asks. You jump and scream and are immediately glad that you don’t have your gun on you. Aaron holds up his hands defensively. “Sorry. I’ll remember to warn you.”

“How’d you get in?” you ask and he dangles his spare key in his hand. “Right, sorry.”

“Have you slept?” he repeats.

“Can’t.”

He takes the mop from your hands, leaning it up against the counter, then pulls you into his chest.

“You need to sleep,” he says into your hair. “You can’t help Saskia if you’re tired.”

“I can,” you respond defiantly, but you still hold onto him as tight as you can. “I’ve done it before.”

“Mhmm,” he hums judgmentally, rocking the two of you before pulling back lightly and cupping your cheeks. “Before isn’t now. And you have a very perceptive daughter who’s going to feed off your energy.”

“Have you been talking to Garcia?”

“Yes,” he says quietly as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “It’s still true. This’ll all be here in the morning.”

The safety bubble completely pops and you look at him incredulously. “That’s the problem, Aaron.”

“This is the cleanest I’ve ever seen this place,” Aaron says, dropping his face into your neck. “The rest is just cosmetic work.”

“Saskia’s room isn’t cosmetic work,” you whine and he grabs your hand, dragging you to her room.

“Then we do it now.”

And you do. It’s methodical work, but work you’re glad to be doing with Aaron. Whenever you look like you might cry he reaches over, squeezing your knee, or he kisses your forehead lightly. 

“Done,” Aaron says quietly, dusting off his hands and offering you a hand. You take it as he tugs you to your feet.

“I’m gonna tell you I love you later,” you say, running your hand over his stomach. “But right now it doesn’t feel like it’s over.”

He pushes your hair behind your ear. He nods slowly, his eyes telling you he understands. 

“Have you showered?” 

“No,” you whine. 

“Go shower, change into your pj’s, I’ve got everything under control. Nobody’s coming in.”

You look at him, heart swelling with adoration. “Thank-you,” you whisper. You rise to your tippy toes, kissing him. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“When you die, please don’t come back as some psychotic obsessive.” And he chuckles, dropping a kiss to your lips.

“Promise.”

“You’re allowed to take whatever deal Felix made to come back, though.” You run your hands through his hair. “And please don’t ever call Saskia a brat.”

“I promise,” Aaron repeats, pushing your hair off your face. “Promise me something?”

“Anything.” 

“Tell me if you need anything. If work’s too much, if you don’t want to be here, if you’re overwhelmed.” He traces your cheek, eyes never meeting yours. You know he’s thinking about Elle.

“I promise.”

***

When you come out of the shower Saskia’s not in the guest room. You feel the panic as you search every room except your own, and you’re about to burst into tears when you open your door because you can’t find her and--

Aaron’s sitting on your bed, half under your covers, back awkwardly up against the headboard, Saskia cradled against his chest. He looks asleep until you climb into bed and he inches his eyes open. 

“Nightmare,” he whispers and Saskia shuffles slightly but doesn’t wake. 

You nod, shuffling around the bed to pull the covers over him, and the two of you almost rock the house with how much you’re giggling. When you’ve got Saskia safely nestled between the two of you, and Aaron’s hand laced in yours, you push his hair off his face.

“Aaron?” you whisper and he turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow so he can see over Saskia.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He strokes your cheek and in the low light you can see him blush.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ me? canonically repairing Haley&Hotch's relationship while still keeping it awkward? more likely than you might think. ~  
> ~ y'know who hasn't had sex in a long time? Aaron Hotchner. You know who needs to fix that? (Call me when you have an answer). ~


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cups hands over mouth* THERE BE SMUT HERE. ~ also domestic moments ~

You wake to the front door closing and no Aaron or Saskia. You sit bolt upright, and maybe you panic a little louder than you think because Aaron creaks your door open. His t-shirt's splattered in paint, and a couple of paint streaks on his face--and his hair, you note.

"It was just Morgan," he says quietly. "Saskia's with Dave and your dad." 

You nod, trying to calm your breathing. Aaron perches himself on the edge of your bed, placing his hand on your back comfortingly. 

"You should have woken me," you say, even though you're glad he didn't.

"Your dad said to let you sleep. And I'm scared of him."

You cup his cheek and make a mocking 'awwww' sound. "You're scared of my dad?" 

"Yes!" He squeaks defensively. "And Dave. They could both kill me with their pinkies." 

You smile softly, if only because your mind is elsewhere (elsewhere being somewhere where Aaron isn't wearing clothes) and run your hand through his hair. Your fingers get stuck beneath a clump of dried paint and you're about to apologise when you see that Aaron's eyes are closed, a precious little smile on his face. 

"Aaron, do you like your hair being played with?" you tease quietly. He nods, not opening his eyes, leaning into your hand. Fuck he's cute. "I'll remember that." 

He hums in response, leaning into your hand. “I’ll love you forever and ever,” he mumbles, nuzzling against your hand and kissing your arm. 

“What was Morgan doing here?” You ask, scraping your nails over his scalp.

“Hmm?” Aaron’s eyes flicker open, somewhat reluctantly. “He patched up your wall. Fixed the cupboard door.”

“He can do that?” 

“Apparently he’s a man of many talents.”

“Is he coming back?” You shuffled across the bed, straddling his lap. Aaron makes a tiny little moan and shakes his head. “Good.” 

You lace your hands in his hair, leaning in and kissing him slowly. He smiles into it, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you to him. He chuckles into your lips as you push him down onto the mattress, taking your hands out of his hair, running them over his face, his chest. 

“It’s been a long time,” Aaron whispers against your lips. 

“27 days,” you correct. He just nods, working his hands under your shirt, fingers lightly brushing against the underside of your breasts until you take one of his hands and place it over your breast. (Maybe a little too forcefully, but you need him to touch you).

“Are we planning on resetting that counter to zero?” He says, peppering kisses over your jaw. You swallow, nodding, and grind yourself over the hardness forming in his pants.

Aaron’s breath stutters, but he catches himself, hands wandering down your stomach, working their way into your pants. He pauses, hand hovering over your core as he looks at you softly. 

“You’re sure?” He whispers and you nod, leaning down and slowly pressing a kiss to his nose. 

“I’m sure,” you smile. 

A flash of mischief appears across Aaron’s face, then he makes a cute little innocent face.

“It’s just that we’ve never done it here before,” he whines, his fingers lightly brushing against your core. Your body flutters in response, and he smirks, fingers brushing against your clit. You buck into it, trying to get more friction than a light brush.

Aaron tuts quietly, but whatever resolution he was going to make is lost as he slips a finger inside you. You gasp quietly, his thumb working at your clit in small circles. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron whispers, finger pumping inside you as he adds another. You moan, sinking down onto his fingers because there’s no way you’ll be able hover just that little bit above him for much longer. 

You push his shirt up his chest, tracing your hands over his bare skin. He leans up, kissing you slowly, preciously, like he almost lost you. And, okay, he did. And you almost lost him. The thought crashes into you and you find the kiss becoming more passionate, tongue, teeth, desperate. 

“I need you,” you murmur into his ear and he gulps, nodding, and his fingers leave you, desperately pulling off your clothes, then his own. He squirms to reach for your bedside table, trying to grab at the drawer to grab condoms (condoms, you realised, that you haven’t put in that drawer) and you groan.

“They’re in the bathroom,” you whisper, tapping his chest as you climb off him despite his protests. “I’ll be right back.”

You dig around in your bathroom cupboards, find a box, and return with a condom, shoving the box in your bedside table drawer. Aaron smirks as you return to him, tearing the packet open with your teeth.

“The bathroom?” He teases as he grabs your waist, pulling you up to him.

“You should come over more often and then you can choose where they stay.” You lean down, kissing him quickly before scraping your fingers down his chest, backing up, and rolling the condom over him.

His fingers trace circles on your hips lightly. “Yeah?” 

“Uh huh,” you smile softly and stroke his cock, Aaron moans softly. You line yourself up with him, sinking down slowly as you adjust to him. His hands tighten around your hips, mouth dropped open softly. 

“I love you,” he groans, letting go of your waist and kneading at your breasts. You moan in response, your head falling back as you roll.

It’s slow, and means something, and has all the emotions both of you wished you had shown before. At some point you both find yourself switching positions, you’re leaning against the pillows, while Aaron thrusts into you, elbows either side of your head, his face buried into your neck.

He moans gently into your neck as he picks up the pace, and you reach up to take his hand in yours and he laces his fingers into yours, squeezing with every thrust. He changes his angle and a mangled groan escapes you, morphing into a pleasurable scream.

Aaron’s movements don’t stutter, but his face lifts from your neck to look at you. He smirks, kissing away your moans, and it’s just the two of you. Nothing else exists. 

“Fuck, Aaron,” you moan into him, squeezing his hand. He tugs at your bottom lip and smirks, then his hand finds your clit and he’s rubbing circles until your body bucks against his and your thoughts jumble until all you can do is moan and say his name. 

“I’m close,” you breathe when you finally find your words, and Aaron drops his face into your neck and nods. He tries to form words, you know he does because you feel the way his lips move against your neck noiselessly. His fingers circle your clit once more and your orgasm meets you full force, practically knocking you out.

When you rejoin the land of the living Aaron’s limp against you, catching his breath with his face buried in your neck. He pulls himself out of you slowly, despite the small protesting whine you give him. 

“Stay here,” he whispers, but your legs are limp with the occasional spasm and you know you can’t get up.

“Can’t go anywhere,” you mumble as he smirks. 

It feels like hours that you’re just lying there, until Aaron comes back and eases you to your feet. You think you might die when he leads you to the bathroom, and the bath he’s run with the dumb little soapy rose petals you’ve had in the cupboard for years but never had the excuse to use. 

“What’s this for?” You ask quietly like someone’s going to hear you both.

“Thought it would be nice,” he mumbles, dropping his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you.

“A very good thought,” you agree. 

You both end up in the bath, cradled against Aaron’s chest as he runs a soapy hand over the back of your neck, wrapping your hair in his hands. 

“How long’re you going to be in DC?” He says against your shoulder, letting go of your hair. 

“Two weeks,” you say, rubbing his thigh. “Then a couple of reviews, so I’ll be off work for a month probably.” He groans into your shoulder, nipping at the skin lightly. “It’ll be fine.”

“Mhmm.”

“DC isn’t that far away,” you counter, scooping a soapy petal into your hand and watching the water drain out of your hand.

“Yeah but you’re stuck in court for two weeks.”

“Very exciting,” you squeak playfully. 

“It’s literally the most boring thing that’ll ever happen.”

You shrug. “Worse things have happened.”

He squeezes you, telling you everything you needed to know without saying anything at all. 

“And when I’m back, we’re gonna do something.” You take his hand in yours, lacing them together, and squeezing the soapy petals between your palms. “We’re going to have sex without the idea that one of us could have died.”

“That sounds nice,” Aaron chuckles. 

“Doesn’t it?” You lift his hand to your mouth and kiss it. “You don’t have to do this, by the way.”

“I know,” Aaron says squeezing you. “But you’d do the same for me.” You move, trying to shift to look at him but he pulls you close to him and puts his chin on your shoulder. “You did the same for me, I was just stubborn.”

You roll your eyes but you let him have it because it’s true. You would do the same for him.

***

You spend the afternoon in bed with Aaron, both of you reading books that you’d found lying around. 

“How you’d get the day off?” You ask as the afternoon light filters through your bay window, dancing over your covers.

“Strauss isn’t there to tell us to stay,” he responds, kissing the top of your head. “I told the team to take the day off and regather themselves.”

You nod, nuzzling into him. His phone rings and he groans, reaching out for it by slapping at the bed until he found it, flipping it open.

“Hotchner.”

You flourish your hands playfully and repeat ‘Hotchner’ quietly, and he rolls his eyes, kissing your cheek softly to quieten you.

“Uh huh,” he says quietly, wrapping his legs around you. “I’ll ask.” A pause. “Yes, Garcia, I’ll ask.” And he squeezes you in his lap, dropping his face into your shoulder. “Garcia wants to know if you and Saskia want to go out to dinner with the team.”

You feel full at the idea of reuniting with the team without the rush of paramedics and hospital visits and Saskia clutching to your leg. But then coming home, and last time Felix had just gotten into your house and you’re not even sure how and—

“Hey,” Aaron whispers, squeezing your middle and drawing you out of the downward spiral. “It’s okay.” He drops a kiss to your shoulder. “How about they come here for dinner?” You flounder for a reason to say no, but they’ve all seen the mess, and it’ll be nice to have them in the house.

“That sounds nice.”

You’re barely listening as he wraps up his phone call with Garcia and tosses his phone into the doona. He wraps you up with all his limbs and rocks you slowly until your heart stops trying to burst through your rib cage.

“The team’ll be here at 6.30. Saskia, Dave and your Dad’ll be back at six.” 

“What’s the time?” You pinch lightly at the skin on his arm, smiling as he squirms. 

“5.30.” 

You groan. It technically IS enough time for a quickie, but one you’ll both enjoy without the knowledge that your daughter might burst through the doors any minute? Probably not. Aaron stifles a yawn into your shoulder. 

“Enough time for a nap?” You whisper, and you’ve never heard a grown man respond to a nap so passionately. 

Which is how you and Hotch end up tangled together, in one of the deepest naps you’ve ever had in your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ foot popping kiss next chapter? I think yes. ~


	30. Chapter 30

“They only hugged?” JJ says, maybe a little judgmentally, as she climbs out of Emily’s car with Spencer. She’d brought a collection of baked sweets from a bakery near her house, Spencer was in control of the drinks, Emily in control of something that smells delicious. 

“Only hugged,” Spencer confirms. Morgan and Garcia join them, Morgan suspiciously quiet when JJ asks if either of them have ever seen the two of you actually kiss. Even Garcia looks down at her casserole dish and chews at her lip.

Somehow JJ misses the lack of interaction.

“Who’s car is that?” Spencer asks, motioning to the car that’s parked Hotch in. Everyone looks at the car, looks at each other, and shrug collectively. 

Morgan’s the first through the door, catching Saskia with one arm as she launches herself at him. Her playful shriek is met by two forceful ‘shhh’s from the kitchen and Saskia slams her hand over her mouth.

“Mom’s asleep,” Saskia says in hushed tones but the whole team’s heard the surprised noises that’s come from your room. “Come meet Grandad.” Saskia grabs Morgan’s hand and tugs it, dragging him down the corridor and trusting that the rest of the team follows.

***

Aaron groans, shaking you lightly when you fall back into his shoulder.

“The team’s here,” he says, and yet he does nothing to move. 

“But you’re so comfy,” you counter, tracing circles over his chest. “Five more minutes.”

“Up,” he responds, and still doesn’t move. 

The only thing that tears you away from Aaron is the terrifying mix of voices that has to be your dad and Spencer. Which has to be a recipe for disaster. Aaron notices it too, swinging his legs over your mattress the moment your body left his.

He fixes his shirt, as if it needs fixing, and stands heading to your door. With his hair all flat and fluffy (the only way a nap can do).

“Aaron,” you call, clicking your fingers. He turns, eyebrow raised, and returns to you with a tiny ‘hmmm?’ And you ruffle his hair, then soothe it so he doesn’t look like he’s just slept for an hour. 

He cups your face, squeezes it, and kisses you. “I’m going to go save Spencer from your dad.”

“That’s very brave of you,” you smile as he taps your nose lightly and then he’s out. You hear the team cheer as he goes into the kitchen. 

Reluctantly you roll out of bed, and rifle through your closet to find something quick to put on because you’re still in your pj’s. You find the cute little yellow sundress you’d bought after the angel maker case. You’d never actually gotten the opportunity to wear it. 

“Oh hi,” Morgan says playfully as you comes in, whistling softly. You curtsy playfully, smiling at him. Your dad just grunts from the kitchen where he’s… holding condiments? He smiles at you as Rossi holds out a hand and he hands the condiment over. You’re not even sure why you’re surprised.

Aaron’s leaning up against the counter, eyes flickering awkwardly between Morgan and your father. You cock an eyebrow at him and he shrugs. Saskia’s at the table, colouring in a world map, that’s definitely your dad’s doing, with Spencer. 

“What’re we talking about?” You ask, sliding up next to Aaron. He wraps his arm around your waist and kisses your temple. 

“The Marines,” your dad says. You make a fake surprised face and nod like you’re impressed.

“Marine life,” you say a little too loud and Saskia’s head snaps up. There’s barely a breath before Saskia does a disturbingly accurate impersonation of a dolphin. Your dad glares at you. Morgan hides his smile behind his hand.

“Want a drink?” Morgan offers. “Hotch?” 

“Yeah,” Hotch says as Morgan pulls a beer out the fridge, then another for you, opening them and handing them to the two of you. You thank him, still looking between your dad and the rest of the team.

Dave catches your eye. “Can you grab the rosemary for me?” 

“Uh, yeah.” You wiggle out from under Aaron’s arm, grabbing the rosemary from your pantry and pass it to Rossi.

“He’s on his best behaviour,” Dave tells you quietly. “Three things you should know. One, your father knows Emily’s mother and it’s a sore point between the two of them. Two, Spencer’s been snapped at and Morgan’s defended him. Three, you didn’t tell me that Hotch was Aaron-Aaron.”

You stare at Dave, blink slowly, then snatch the rosemary back from him.

“It wasn’t my thing to tell.”

Towards the end of highschool, Aaron had had a rough time. So had Sean. Neither of them ever quite said why, but it was an unspoken rule that there would always be a spare bed if either of them turned up on the doorstep. You’d even had stroganoff night, which was the night that everyone came over for dinner. (Everyone being: Felix, Haley, Aaron, Sean, you, and your dad). After graduation something had happened between your dad and Aaron but you’re not sure what, or when. Your dad had just petered off mentioning him, and then he was just gone from conversation altogether. 

The fact that Dave had finally put two and two together makes your skin crawl just a bit, if only because you worried Dave would look at Aaron differently now he knew he was the Aaron you used to leave navy galas for. 

When you’re setting the table you have to drag a couple of chairs in from outside, Saskia calling dibs on the wheelie chair from the office. Two jugs of water with lemons find their way to the table, a bottle of wine and a non-alcoholic bottle that your father had fished out when he heard about JJ’s pregnancy. 

Saskia saves the seats either side of her for Garcia and Spencer. Morgan keeps polite conversation with your father—that JJ manages to keep up with, to her credit—and Emily butts in every now and then with very politically correct interjections. Your dad and Rossi place fettuccini beef stroganoff in front of everyone. 

Aaron tenses beside you, then relaxes, squeezes your knee.

“Looks good,” he says, smiling at your dad. Your dad just nods. You take a shaky breath, raising your fork as though to say ‘dig in’. The team look between Aaron and your dad, then dig into their own meal.

Conversation is polite, only a few slip ups, like when Morgan asks for a jug (not specifically water, but it’s implied) and your dad passes him an empty one before there’s a chorus of “with water” from you, Saskia and Aaron. Before dessert you all migrate to the couch, your dad pottering around the kitchen. 

Aaron watches him, your legs pulled into his lap. When Morgan and Garcia are telling a story about some clubbing night they’d had (the PG version, because Saskia’s hanging onto every word as Emily braids her hair), you squeeze Aaron’s legs and lean into him.

“You should talk to him,” you whisper, resting your chin on his shoulder. “He doesn’t bite.” Aaron shakes his head and you run a nail down his cheek, smiling as he turns to look at you like you’ve just killed his favourite dog. You pout at him, giving him your best eyes, and he smiles.

“I hate you,” he whispers, kissing your forehead. Then he peels your legs off his lap, sticks his hands deep in his pockets, and practically shuffles into the kitchen like he’s sixteen.

JJ reaches over and takes your hand, squeezing it. “What’s that about?”

“I dunno,” you smile, slowly tearing your eyes away from them. “How’re you feeling?”

JJ smiles, wiggling her toes as she puts them up on the foot rest. “Better. I can keep food down this week.”

“And it’s felt like the best week of your life?” You sigh dreamily and JJ laughs in response. “Did the body pillow help?” 

“Heaps, thanks,” JJ smiles and launches into an explanation that you’re not quite listening to because Aaron does a dramatic huff (and he might as well have stomped) and then your dad puts down the bowl of whipped cream. 

You watch as your Dad places a hand on Aaron’s elbow, his attention completely devoted on Aaron and you’re itching to know what they’re talking about. Then your dad smiles, properly, and thrusts the bowl of whipped cream into Aaron’s stomach and points at the bowls. Dave just smiles at you like he knows what’s happened.

The three of them hand out the bowls, earning surprised gasps when it ends up being chocolate cake that no one bought (it’s a curse and a blessing to put both Rossi and your dad in a kitchen). Aaron grabs your wrist as he hands you your bowl, motioning to outside. You glance at the team then nod, following him outside.

“What was all that about?” You ask, spooning out half your cream and plopping it into Aaron’s bowl.

“Want some cake in exchange?” He teases, holding the bowl out to you. You stab the cake, trying to grab the entire slab that makes Aaron laugh and snatch it away from you. Then his smile falls and he looks at you almost guiltily. “Did I ever tell you what happened before I moved to FBI?”

“After you stopped playing prosecutor?” You pop the cake into your mouth, but tried to keep your face interested.

“I guess I just. I just wanted to leave. And Sean and I had just had this massive fight and I’d gone to your dad’s place ‘cause I’d left some stuff that Haley wanted and.” You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it lightly. “He meant well, I know that now, but I think I just panicked because he reminded me of my dad, and he was trying to fix things with me and Sean—“

“Sean and I,” you correct because it’s getting a little awkward. Aaron glares at you but smiles all the same.

“He tried to fix things but I was convinced it didn’t need fixing. We had this massive fight and… I dunno, I thought he never wanted to see me again.”

“Jokes on you ‘cause I think Dad adopted all of us after you broke your leg,” you smile, taking a step closer and stabbing his cake.

He laughs, properly, chomping at the air as he tries to catch your fork with the cake. It ends with Aaron holding you back as you hold both bowls out as far as you can while both of you laugh so hard you’re sure the neighbours are going to call in a noise complaint.

“I hope it’s not a genuine adoption,” Aaron says into your ear as he seemingly gives up on grabbing the bowls. “Cause I really like kissing you.”

“Yeah?” You smile, turning to him chest to chest. “If you give me one of those award winning kisses you might be lucky enough to get your dessert back.”

“They’re award winning?” He says smuggly against your lips as you loops you arms around the back of his neck, bowls hanging from your fingers.

“Mhmm.” You grin as he presses his lips to yours. Your mind goes blank, the only thought going through your head is how soft his kiss is as he parts your lips, and then that your daughter’s watching and—

There.

The foot pop. 

And you hear the entire team cheer from inside, and you’re sure Morgan pops champagne. Someone pops the door open and Emily yells “get a room!” Which makes Aaron chuckle. 

“If only they knew,” he says, wrestling his bowl out of your hand.

“I’m happy if they don’t.” You chuckle. 

Aaron nods, drops a kiss to your neck, and scoops up the biggest chunk of cake you’ve ever seen and shoves it into his mouth. “Inside?” He asks, spraying crumbs all over the place. 

“Gross,” you laugh, stabbing your fork into his bowl, but he’s quicker than you now (god knows how) and he shovels the rest of his bowl in his mouth. 

“Want some now?” He says (or, at least you assume that’s what he says through the most disgusting mouthful of cake you’ve ever seen).

“No!” You screech, but that really doesn’t stop him.

And that’s how the night ends. With Aaron being the most disgusting human you’ve ever loved, and the team complaining about how in love the two of you are (although you’re not sure they’re really complaining). And it’s nice. 

Really nice.

Almost perfect.

As the night ends you end up spreading the team through your house, Saskia goes to bed, and you end up tangled in bed with Aaron and a couple of bedsheets you’re sure belong in Saskia’s room.

“I love you,” Aaron says, rolling over and resting his chest on your stomach.

“I love you too,” you smile, running your fingers through his hair.

Yeah.

Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ this is the end of part 1 ~  
> ~ but not the end, at all. There’s lots more to come. ~  
> I LOVE EVERY SINGLE PERSON THAT’S READ ADN COMMENTED AND LIKED IT AND READ IT OMG Y’ALL ARE SAINTS.


End file.
